CUDDY.

Shee that long true love profeft,
She hath robb'd my heart of rest:

For fhe a new love loves, not mee;

Which makes me wear the willowe-tree.

WILLY.

Come then, fhepherde, let us joine,
Since thy happ is like to mine:
For the maid I thought most true
Mee hath alfo bid adieu.

CUDDY.

Thy hard happ doth mine appease,
Companye doth sorrowe case:
Yet, Phillis, ftill I pine for thee,

And ftill muft weare the willowe-tree.

WILLY.

Shepherde, be advis'd by mee,
Caft off grief and willowe-tree:
For thy grief brings her content,
She is pleas'd if thou lament.

CUDDY.

Herdsman, I'll be rul'd by thee,

There lyes grief and willowe-tree:

Henceforth I will do as they,

And love a new love every day.

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X.

THE LADY's FALL,

-is given (with corrections) from the editor's ancient folie MS. collated with two printed copies in black-letter; one in the British Mufeum, the other in the Pepys collection. Its old title is, "A lamentable ballad of the Lady's fall." To the tune of," In Pefcod Time, c."-The ballad here referred to is preferved in the MUSES LIBRARY, 8vo. p. 281. It is an allegory or vifion, intitled, "THE SHEPHERD'S SLUM"BER," and opens with fome pretty rural images, viz.

"In pefcod time when hound to horn
"Gives eare till buck be kil'd,
"And little lads with pipes of corne
"Sate keeping beafts a-field.

"I went to gather ftrawberries
"By woods and groves fall fair, &c."

M

ARKE well my heavy dolefull tale,
You loyall lovers all,

And heedfully beare in your breft,

A gallant ladyes fall.

Long was she wooed, ere fhee was wonne,

To lead a wedded life,

But folly wrought her overthrowe

Before thee was a wife.

Too

Though he protested to be true,

And faithfull to her ftill.
Shee felt her body altered quite,

Her bright hue waxed pale,

Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color white,
Her ftrength began to fayle.

Soe that with many a forrowful figh,
This beauteous ladye milde,

With greeved hart, perceived herselfe

To have conceived with childe.
Shee kept it from her parents fight
As clofe as clofe might bee,
And foe put on her filken gowne
None might her fwelling fee.

Unto her lover fecretly

Her greefe fhee did bewray,
And walking with him hand in hand,
These words to him did fay;
Behold, quoth fhee, a maids diftreffe
By love brought to thy bowe,

Behold I goe with childe by thee,

Tho none thereof doth knowę.

The litle babe springs in my wombe

To heare its fathers voyce,

Lett it not be a bastard called,

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Sith I made thee my choyce:

Come, come, my love, perform thy vowe

And wed me out of hand;

O leave me not in this extreme
Of griefe, alas! to stand.

Think on thy former promises,

Thy oathes and vowes eche one; Remember with what bitter teares

To mee thou madest thy moane. Convay me to fome secrett place,

And marry me with speede; Or with thy rapyer end my life,

Ere further shame proceede.

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Alacke! my beauteous love, quoth hee,

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My joye, and only dear;

Which way can I convay thee hence,

When dangers are fo near?

Thy friends are all of hye degree,

And I of meane estate ;

Full hard it is to gett thee forthe

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Out of thy father, gate.

Dread

Dread not thy life to fave my fame,

For if thou taken bee,

My felfe will step betweene the fwords,

And take the harme on mee:

Soe fhall I fcape dishonor quite;

And if I fhould be flaine

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What could they say, but that true love
Had wrought a ladyes bane.

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But feare not any further harme ;

My felfe will foe devise,

That I will ryde away with thee
Unknowen of mortall eyes:
Disguised like fome pretty page
Ile meete thee in the darke,

And all alone Ile come to thee
Hard by my fathers parke.

And there, quoth hee, Ile meete my deare
If God foe lend me life,

On this day month without all fayle

I will make thee my wife.

Then with a sweet and loving kiffe,

They parted presentlye,

And att their partinge brinish teares

Stoode in eche others eye,

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