Chapter 17

“Keeps wassail, and the swaggeringupsy freeze.”

(Cambr. Essays, 1656;Cambr. Shakesp.viii. 30). T. Caldecott had so early as 1620 (inSpec. new edit. Shakesp.Hamlet) anticipated the guess, but not boldly.He brings forward from T. Lodge’sWit’s Miserie, 4to, 1596, p. 20, “Dance, leap, sing, drink,upsefrize.” And again:—

ForUpsefreezehe drunke from four to nine,So as each sense was steeped well in wine:Yet still he kept hisrouse, till he in fineGrew extreame sicke with huggingBacchusshrine.[The Shrift.]

ForUpsefreezehe drunke from four to nine,So as each sense was steeped well in wine:Yet still he kept hisrouse, till he in fineGrew extreame sicke with huggingBacchusshrine.

ForUpsefreezehe drunke from four to nine,

So as each sense was steeped well in wine:

Yet still he kept hisrouse, till he in fine

Grew extreame sicke with huggingBacchusshrine.

[The Shrift.]

A new Spring shadowed in sundrie pithie Poems byMusophilus, 4to. 1619, signat. l. b., where “Upsefreese” is the name of the frier. Like “Wassael” and “Trinkael,” the phrase upsie-friese, or vrijster, seems to have been used as a toast, perhaps for “To your sweetheart.”

The exact date of this ballad’s publication was 31st December, 1659: inThomason Collection, Numero xxii., folio, Brit. Mus.

Probably written in 1659-60, when Monk was bridling the Commons. “Cooks” alludes to John Cook, the Solicitor for the Commonwealth, who at the trial of Charles Ist. exhibited the charge of high treason. After the Restoration, Cook was executed along with Hugh Peters, 16th Oct., 1660, at Charing Cross.

“Hyrens” (as earlier printed inWit and Drollery, 1656, p. 26), instead of “Syrens” of our text, is probably correct. Ancient Pistol twice asks “Have we notHirenshere?” (HenryIV., Part 2nd, Act ii. sc. 4). George Peele had a play, now lost, on “The Turkish Mahomet and Hiren the fair Greek” [1594?] In theSpiritual Navigator, 1615, we learn, is a passage, “There be Syrens in the sea of the world.Syrens?Hirens, asthey are now called. What a number of these syrens, hirens, cockatrices, courteghians—in plain English, harlots—swimme amongst us!”

An unfortunate misprint crept in, detected too late: for “Feasts” read properly “Jeasts:” the old fashioned initialJbeing barred across likeF.

This must have been an established jest. Compare Introd. toM. D., C., pp. xxxi-ii. and T. Randolph’s “Fall of the Mitre Tavern,” Cambridge, before 1635,

“The zealous students of that placeChange of religion bear:That this mischance may soon bring in||A heresy of beer.”

“The zealous students of that place

Change of religion bear:

That this mischance may soon bring in||A heresy of beer.”

“He that gave the King a hundred horse,” refers, no doubt, to Sir John Suckling and his loyal service in 1642. See introduction toM. D., C., pp. xix. xx. The Answer to “I tell thee, Jack, thou gavest the King,” there mentioned, and probably referring to Sir John Mennis, a carping rival although a Cavalier, has a smack of Cleveland about it (it certainly is not Suckling’s):—

I tell thee, fool, who ere thou be,That made this fine sing-song of me,Thou art a riming sot:These very lines do thee betray,This barren wit makes all men say’Twas some rebellious Scot.But it’s no wonder if you singSuch songs of me, who am no King,When every blew-cap swearsHee’l not obey KingJameshis Barn,That huggs a Bishop under’s Arme,And hangs them in his ears.Had I been of your Covenant,You’d call me th’ son ofJohnofGaunt,And give me t’ great renown;But now I amJohn[f]or the King,You say I am but poorSuckling,And thus you cry me down.Well, it’s no matter what you sayOf me or mine that run away:I hold it no good fashionA Loyal subjects blood to spill,When we have knaves enough to killBy force of Proclamation.Commend me untoLesleystout,And his Pedlers him about,Tell them without remorse[p. 151.]That I will plunder all their packsWhich they have got with their stoln knick knacks,With these my hundred horse.This holy War, this zealous firkeAgainst the Bishops and the KirkIs a pretended bravery;Religion, all the world can tell,Amongst Highlanders nere did dwell,Its but to cloak your knavery.Such desperate Gamesters as you be,I cannot blame for tutoring me,Since all you have is down,And every Boor forsakes his Plow,And swears that he’l turn Gamester nowTo venture for a Crown.(Le Prince d’Amour, 1660, pp. 150, 151.)

I tell thee, fool, who ere thou be,That made this fine sing-song of me,Thou art a riming sot:These very lines do thee betray,This barren wit makes all men say’Twas some rebellious Scot.

I tell thee, fool, who ere thou be,

That made this fine sing-song of me,

Thou art a riming sot:

These very lines do thee betray,

This barren wit makes all men say

’Twas some rebellious Scot.

But it’s no wonder if you singSuch songs of me, who am no King,When every blew-cap swearsHee’l not obey KingJameshis Barn,That huggs a Bishop under’s Arme,And hangs them in his ears.

But it’s no wonder if you sing

Such songs of me, who am no King,

When every blew-cap swears

Hee’l not obey KingJameshis Barn,

That huggs a Bishop under’s Arme,

And hangs them in his ears.

Had I been of your Covenant,You’d call me th’ son ofJohnofGaunt,And give me t’ great renown;But now I amJohn[f]or the King,You say I am but poorSuckling,And thus you cry me down.

Had I been of your Covenant,

You’d call me th’ son ofJohnofGaunt,

And give me t’ great renown;

But now I amJohn[f]or the King,

You say I am but poorSuckling,

And thus you cry me down.

Well, it’s no matter what you sayOf me or mine that run away:I hold it no good fashionA Loyal subjects blood to spill,When we have knaves enough to killBy force of Proclamation.

Well, it’s no matter what you say

Of me or mine that run away:

I hold it no good fashion

A Loyal subjects blood to spill,

When we have knaves enough to kill

By force of Proclamation.

Commend me untoLesleystout,And his Pedlers him about,Tell them without remorse[p. 151.]That I will plunder all their packsWhich they have got with their stoln knick knacks,With these my hundred horse.

Commend me untoLesleystout,

And his Pedlers him about,

Tell them without remorse[p. 151.]

That I will plunder all their packs

Which they have got with their stoln knick knacks,

With these my hundred horse.

This holy War, this zealous firkeAgainst the Bishops and the KirkIs a pretended bravery;Religion, all the world can tell,Amongst Highlanders nere did dwell,Its but to cloak your knavery.

This holy War, this zealous firke

Against the Bishops and the Kirk

Is a pretended bravery;

Religion, all the world can tell,

Amongst Highlanders nere did dwell,

Its but to cloak your knavery.

Such desperate Gamesters as you be,I cannot blame for tutoring me,Since all you have is down,And every Boor forsakes his Plow,And swears that he’l turn Gamester nowTo venture for a Crown.

Such desperate Gamesters as you be,

I cannot blame for tutoring me,

Since all you have is down,

And every Boor forsakes his Plow,

And swears that he’l turn Gamester now

To venture for a Crown.

(Le Prince d’Amour, 1660, pp. 150, 151.)

This is byWillm. Browne, author of “Britannia’s Pastorals.” The date is probably about fifteen years before 1645. It is one among the “Odes, Songs, andSonnets of Wm. Browne,” in the Lansdowne MS. 777, fol. 4reversoand 5, with extra verses not used in the Catch.

A Rounde.[1st verse sung by] All.Now that the Spring hath fill’d our veynesWith kinde and actiue fire,And made green Liu’ryes for the playnes,and euery grove a Quire,Sing we a Song of merry gleeandBacchusfill the bowle:1. Then heres to thee; 2. And thou to meeand euery thirsty soule.Nor Care nor Sorrow ere pay’d debtnor never shall doe myne;I haue no Cradle goeing yet,[?2.] nor I, by this good wyne.No wyfe at home to send for me,noe hoggs are in my grounde,Noe suit at Law to pay a fee,Then round, old Jockey, round.All.Sheare sheepe that haue them, cry we still,But see that noe man scapeTo drink of the SherryThat makes us so merryand plumpe as the lusty Grape.(Lansdowne MS., No. 777.)

A Rounde.[1st verse sung by] All.

Now that the Spring hath fill’d our veynesWith kinde and actiue fire,And made green Liu’ryes for the playnes,and euery grove a Quire,Sing we a Song of merry gleeandBacchusfill the bowle:1. Then heres to thee; 2. And thou to meeand euery thirsty soule.

Now that the Spring hath fill’d our veynes

With kinde and actiue fire,

And made green Liu’ryes for the playnes,

and euery grove a Quire,

Sing we a Song of merry glee

andBacchusfill the bowle:

1. Then heres to thee; 2. And thou to mee

and euery thirsty soule.

Nor Care nor Sorrow ere pay’d debtnor never shall doe myne;I haue no Cradle goeing yet,[?2.] nor I, by this good wyne.No wyfe at home to send for me,noe hoggs are in my grounde,Noe suit at Law to pay a fee,Then round, old Jockey, round.

Nor Care nor Sorrow ere pay’d debt

nor never shall doe myne;

I haue no Cradle goeing yet,

[?2.] nor I, by this good wyne.

No wyfe at home to send for me,

noe hoggs are in my grounde,

Noe suit at Law to pay a fee,

Then round, old Jockey, round.

All.

Sheare sheepe that haue them, cry we still,But see that noe man scapeTo drink of the SherryThat makes us so merryand plumpe as the lusty Grape.

Sheare sheepe that haue them, cry we still,

But see that noe man scape

To drink of the Sherry

That makes us so merry

and plumpe as the lusty Grape.

(Lansdowne MS., No. 777.)

“Noe hoggs are in my grounds” may refer to the Catch (if it be equally old):—

Whose three Hogs are these, and whose three Hoggs are these,They areJohn Cook’s, I know by their look, for I found them in my pease.Oh! pound them: oh pound them! But I dare not, for my life;For if I should poundJohn Cook’sHoggs, I should never kissJohn Cook’swife, &c.(Catch Club, 1705, iii. 46.)

Whose three Hogs are these, and whose three Hoggs are these,

They areJohn Cook’s, I know by their look, for I found them in my pease.

Oh! pound them: oh pound them! But I dare not, for my life;

For if I should poundJohn Cook’sHoggs, I should never kissJohn Cook’swife, &c.

(Catch Club, 1705, iii. 46.)

In 1641 this was printed separately and anonymously as “A Preparative to Studie; or, the Vertue of Sack,” 4to. Ben Jonson had died in August, 1637. Line 9 reads: dullHynde; 21, Genius-making; 28, Welcome, by; after the word “scapes” these additional lines:—

I would not leave thee, Sack, to be withJove,His Nectar is but faign’d, but I doe proveThy more essentiall worth; I am (methinks), &c.

I would not leave thee, Sack, to be withJove,

His Nectar is but faign’d, but I doe prove

Thy more essentiall worth; I am (methinks), &c.

Line 46, instead of “long since,” reads “of late” (referring to whom?); 38, tempt aSaint; 44,fartherbliss; 53, against thyfoes(N.B.); Thatwould; and, additional, after “horse,” in line 56, this historical allusion to David Lesley, of the Scotch rebellion:—

I’me in the North already,Lasley’sdead,He that would rise, carry the King his head,And tell him (if he aske, who kill’d the Scot)I knock’t his Braines out with a pottle pot.Out ye Rebellious vipers; I’me come backFrom them againe, because there’s no good Sack,T’other odd cup, &c.

I’me in the North already,Lasley’sdead,

He that would rise, carry the King his head,

And tell him (if he aske, who kill’d the Scot)

I knock’t his Braines out with a pottle pot.

Out ye Rebellious vipers; I’me come back

From them againe, because there’s no good Sack,

T’other odd cup, &c.

By this we are guided to the true date: between May, 1639, and August, 1640.

Compare pp.129,315, of present volume, for theAntidoteversion and note upon it. Brief references must suffice for annotation here. See Mallory’s “Morte d’Arthur,” the FrenchLancelot du Lac, andSir Tristram. Three MSS., the Auchinlech, Cambridge University, and Caius College, preserve the romance ofSir Bevis of Hamptoun, with his slaying the wild boar; his swordMorglayis often mentioned, like Arthur’sExcalibur: Ascapard, the thirty-feet-long giant, who after a fierce battle becomes page to Sir Bevis. Caius Coll. MS. and others have the storyRichard Cœur de Leon, but the street-ballad served equally to keep alive his fame amongthe populace,Coll. Old. Bds.iii. 17. Wm. Ellis gives abstracts of romances on Arthur, Guy of Warwick, Sir Bevis, Richard Lion-heart, Sir Eglamour of Artoys, Sir Isumbras, the Seven Wise Masters, Charlemagne and Roland, &c., in hisSpec. Early English Metrical Romances; of which J. O. Halliwell writes, in 1848:—“Ellis did for ancient romance what Percy had previously accomplished for early poetry.” In passing, we must not neglect to express the debt of gratitude due to the managers of theE. E. Text Soc., for giving scholarly and trustworthy prints of so many MSS., hitherto almost beyond reach. ForOrlando InamoratoandOrlando Furiosowe must go to Boiardo and Ariosto, or the translators, Sir John Harrington and W. Stewart Rose. Dunlop’sHist. of Fictiongives a slight notice of some of this ballad’s heroes, includingHuonof Bordeaux, the FrenchLivre de Jason, Prince of the Myrmidons, theVie de Hercule, theCléopâtre, &c. Valentine and Orson is said to have been written in the reign of Charles VIII., and first printed at Lyons in 1495. SS. David, James, and Patrick, with the rest of the Seven Champions, like the Four Sons of Aymon, are of easy access. Cp. Warton.

(Merry Droll., Com., pp. 312, 395;Antidote ag. Mel., 16).

Here is the five years’ earlier Song of “Arthur o’ Bradley,” (vide ante, pp. 166-175) never before reprinted, we believe, and not mentioned by J. P. Collier, W. Chappell, &c., when they referred to “Saw ye not Pierce the Piper” ofAntidoteandM. D., C., 1661. But ours is the earliest-known complete version [before 1642?]:—

A SONG.[p. 81.]All you that desire to merry be,Come listen unto me,And a story I shall tell,Which of a Wedding befell,BetweenArthurofBradleyAndWinifredofMadly.AsArthurupon a dayMetWinifredon the way,He took her by the hand,Desiring her to stand,Saying I must to thee reciteA matter of [great] weight,Of Love, that conquers Kings,In grieved hearts so rings,And if thou dost love thy Mother,Love him that can love no other.Which is oh braveArthur, &c.For in the month of May,Maidens they will say,A May-pole we must have,[∴ date before 1642.]Your helping hand we crave.And when it is set in the earth,The maids bring Sullybubs forth;[Syllabubs]Not one will touch a sup,Till I begin a cup.For I am the end of allOf them, both great and small.Then tell me yea, or nay,For I can no longer stay.With oh braveArthur, &c.Why trulyArthur[,] quoth she,If you so minded be,My good will I grant to you,Or anything I can do.One thing I will compell,So ask my mothers good will.Then from thee I never will flye,Unto the day I do dye.Then homeward they went with speed,Where the mother they met indeed.Well met fair Dame, quothArthur,To move you I am come hither,For I am come to crave,[p. 83.]Your daughter for to have,For I mean to make her my wife,And to live with her all my life.With oh braveArthur, &c.The old woman shreek’d and cry’d,And took her daughter aside,How now daughter, quoth she,Are you so forward indeed,As for to marry he,Without consent of me?Thou never saw’st thirteen year,Nor art not able I fear,To take any over-sight,To rule a mans house aright:Why truly mother, quoth she,You are mistaken in me;If time do not decrease,I am fifteen yeares at least.With oh braveArthur, &c.ThenArthurto them did walk,And broke them of their talk.I tell you Dame, quoth he,I can have as good as thee;For when death my father did call,He then did leave me allHis barrels and his brooms,And a dozen of wo[o]den spoones,Dishes six or seven,Besides an old spade, evenA brasse pot and whimble,A pack-needle and thimble,A pudding prick and reele,And my mothers own sitting wheele;And also there fell to my lotA goodly mustard pot.With O braveArthur, &c.The old woman made a reply,With courteous modesty,If needs it must so be,To the match I will agree.For [when] death doth me call,I then will leave her all;For I have an earthen flaggon,Besides a three-quart noggin,With spickets and fossets five,Besides an old bee-hive;A wooden ladle and maile,And a goodly old clouting paile;Of a chaff bed I am well sped,And there the Bride shall be wed,And every night shall wearA bolster stufft with haire,A blanket for the Bride,And a winding sheet beside,And hemp, if he will it break,[p. 85.]New curtaines for to make.To make all [well] too, I haveStories gay and brave.Of all the world so fine,With oh brave eyes of mine,With oh braveArthur, &c.WhenArthurhis wench obtained,And all his suits had gained,A joyfull man was he,As any that you could see.Then homeward he went with speed,Till he met with her indeed.Two neighbours then did takeTo bid guests for his sake;For dishes and all such ware,You need not take any care.With oh braveArthur, &c.To the Church they went apace,And wisht they might have grace,After the Parson to say,And not stumble by the way;For that was all their doubt,That either of them should be out.And when that they were wed,And each of them well sped,The Bridegroom home he ran,And after him his man,[p. 86.]And after him the Bride,Full joyfull at the tyde,As she was plac’d betwixtTwo yeomen of the Guests,And he was neat and fine,For he thought him at that timeSufficient in every thing,To wait upon a King.But at the doore he did not missTo give her a smacking kiss.With oh braveArthur, &c.To dinner they quickly gat,The Bride betwixt them sat,The Cook to the Dresser did call,The young men then run all,And thought great dignityTo carry up Furmety.Then came leapingLewis,And he call’d hard for Brewis;Stay, quothDavy Rudding,Thou go’st too fast with th’ pudding.Then cameSampson Seal,And he carry’d Mutton and Veal;The old woman scolds full fast,To the Cook she makes great hast,And him she did controul,And swore that the Porridge was cold.With oh brave, &c.My Masters a while be brief,Who taketh up the Beef?Then cameWilliam Dickins,[p. 87.]And carries the Snipes & Chickens.Bartholomewbrought up the Mustard,Casterhe carry’d the Custard.In comesRoger Boore,He carry’d up Rabbets before:QuothRoger, I’le give thee a Cake,If thou wilt carry the Drake.[1] Speak not more nor less,Nor of the greatest mess,Nor how the Bride did carve,Nor how the Groom did serveWith oh braveArthur, &c.But when that they had din’d,Then every man had wine;The maids they stood aloof,While the young men made a proof.Who had the nimblest heele,Or who could dance so well,TillHobof the hill fell over,[? oe’r]And over him three or four.Up he got at last,And forward about he past;AtRowlandhe kicks and grins,And he [? hit]Williamore the shins;He takes not any offence,But fleeres upon his wench.The Piper he play’d [a] Fadding,And they ran all a gadding.With oh braveArthur [o’ Bradley], &c.(“Wits Merriment,” 1656, pp. 81-7.)

A SONG.[p. 81.]

All you that desire to merry be,Come listen unto me,And a story I shall tell,Which of a Wedding befell,BetweenArthurofBradleyAndWinifredofMadly.AsArthurupon a dayMetWinifredon the way,He took her by the hand,Desiring her to stand,Saying I must to thee reciteA matter of [great] weight,Of Love, that conquers Kings,In grieved hearts so rings,And if thou dost love thy Mother,Love him that can love no other.Which is oh braveArthur, &c.

All you that desire to merry be,

Come listen unto me,

And a story I shall tell,

Which of a Wedding befell,

BetweenArthurofBradley

AndWinifredofMadly.

AsArthurupon a day

MetWinifredon the way,

He took her by the hand,

Desiring her to stand,

Saying I must to thee recite

A matter of [great] weight,

Of Love, that conquers Kings,

In grieved hearts so rings,

And if thou dost love thy Mother,

Love him that can love no other.

Which is oh braveArthur, &c.

For in the month of May,Maidens they will say,A May-pole we must have,[∴ date before 1642.]Your helping hand we crave.And when it is set in the earth,The maids bring Sullybubs forth;[Syllabubs]Not one will touch a sup,Till I begin a cup.For I am the end of allOf them, both great and small.Then tell me yea, or nay,For I can no longer stay.With oh braveArthur, &c.

For in the month of May,

Maidens they will say,

A May-pole we must have,[∴ date before 1642.]

Your helping hand we crave.

And when it is set in the earth,

The maids bring Sullybubs forth;[Syllabubs]

Not one will touch a sup,

Till I begin a cup.

For I am the end of all

Of them, both great and small.

Then tell me yea, or nay,

For I can no longer stay.

With oh braveArthur, &c.

Why trulyArthur[,] quoth she,If you so minded be,My good will I grant to you,Or anything I can do.One thing I will compell,So ask my mothers good will.Then from thee I never will flye,Unto the day I do dye.Then homeward they went with speed,Where the mother they met indeed.Well met fair Dame, quothArthur,To move you I am come hither,For I am come to crave,[p. 83.]Your daughter for to have,For I mean to make her my wife,And to live with her all my life.With oh braveArthur, &c.

Why trulyArthur[,] quoth she,

If you so minded be,

My good will I grant to you,

Or anything I can do.

One thing I will compell,

So ask my mothers good will.

Then from thee I never will flye,

Unto the day I do dye.

Then homeward they went with speed,

Where the mother they met indeed.

Well met fair Dame, quothArthur,

To move you I am come hither,

For I am come to crave,[p. 83.]

Your daughter for to have,

For I mean to make her my wife,

And to live with her all my life.

With oh braveArthur, &c.

The old woman shreek’d and cry’d,And took her daughter aside,How now daughter, quoth she,Are you so forward indeed,As for to marry he,Without consent of me?Thou never saw’st thirteen year,Nor art not able I fear,To take any over-sight,To rule a mans house aright:Why truly mother, quoth she,You are mistaken in me;If time do not decrease,I am fifteen yeares at least.With oh braveArthur, &c.

The old woman shreek’d and cry’d,

And took her daughter aside,

How now daughter, quoth she,

Are you so forward indeed,

As for to marry he,

Without consent of me?

Thou never saw’st thirteen year,

Nor art not able I fear,

To take any over-sight,

To rule a mans house aright:

Why truly mother, quoth she,

You are mistaken in me;

If time do not decrease,

I am fifteen yeares at least.

With oh braveArthur, &c.

ThenArthurto them did walk,And broke them of their talk.I tell you Dame, quoth he,I can have as good as thee;For when death my father did call,He then did leave me allHis barrels and his brooms,And a dozen of wo[o]den spoones,Dishes six or seven,Besides an old spade, evenA brasse pot and whimble,A pack-needle and thimble,A pudding prick and reele,And my mothers own sitting wheele;And also there fell to my lotA goodly mustard pot.With O braveArthur, &c.

ThenArthurto them did walk,

And broke them of their talk.

I tell you Dame, quoth he,

I can have as good as thee;

For when death my father did call,

He then did leave me all

His barrels and his brooms,

And a dozen of wo[o]den spoones,

Dishes six or seven,

Besides an old spade, even

A brasse pot and whimble,

A pack-needle and thimble,

A pudding prick and reele,

And my mothers own sitting wheele;

And also there fell to my lot

A goodly mustard pot.

With O braveArthur, &c.

The old woman made a reply,With courteous modesty,If needs it must so be,To the match I will agree.For [when] death doth me call,I then will leave her all;For I have an earthen flaggon,Besides a three-quart noggin,With spickets and fossets five,Besides an old bee-hive;A wooden ladle and maile,And a goodly old clouting paile;Of a chaff bed I am well sped,And there the Bride shall be wed,And every night shall wearA bolster stufft with haire,A blanket for the Bride,And a winding sheet beside,And hemp, if he will it break,[p. 85.]New curtaines for to make.To make all [well] too, I haveStories gay and brave.Of all the world so fine,With oh brave eyes of mine,With oh braveArthur, &c.

The old woman made a reply,

With courteous modesty,

If needs it must so be,

To the match I will agree.

For [when] death doth me call,

I then will leave her all;

For I have an earthen flaggon,

Besides a three-quart noggin,

With spickets and fossets five,

Besides an old bee-hive;

A wooden ladle and maile,

And a goodly old clouting paile;

Of a chaff bed I am well sped,

And there the Bride shall be wed,

And every night shall wear

A bolster stufft with haire,

A blanket for the Bride,

And a winding sheet beside,

And hemp, if he will it break,[p. 85.]

New curtaines for to make.

To make all [well] too, I have

Stories gay and brave.

Of all the world so fine,

With oh brave eyes of mine,

With oh braveArthur, &c.

WhenArthurhis wench obtained,And all his suits had gained,A joyfull man was he,As any that you could see.Then homeward he went with speed,Till he met with her indeed.Two neighbours then did takeTo bid guests for his sake;For dishes and all such ware,You need not take any care.With oh braveArthur, &c.

WhenArthurhis wench obtained,

And all his suits had gained,

A joyfull man was he,

As any that you could see.

Then homeward he went with speed,

Till he met with her indeed.

Two neighbours then did take

To bid guests for his sake;

For dishes and all such ware,

You need not take any care.

With oh braveArthur, &c.

To the Church they went apace,And wisht they might have grace,After the Parson to say,And not stumble by the way;For that was all their doubt,That either of them should be out.And when that they were wed,And each of them well sped,The Bridegroom home he ran,And after him his man,[p. 86.]And after him the Bride,Full joyfull at the tyde,As she was plac’d betwixtTwo yeomen of the Guests,And he was neat and fine,For he thought him at that timeSufficient in every thing,To wait upon a King.But at the doore he did not missTo give her a smacking kiss.With oh braveArthur, &c.

To the Church they went apace,

And wisht they might have grace,

After the Parson to say,

And not stumble by the way;

For that was all their doubt,

That either of them should be out.

And when that they were wed,

And each of them well sped,

The Bridegroom home he ran,

And after him his man,[p. 86.]

And after him the Bride,

Full joyfull at the tyde,

As she was plac’d betwixt

Two yeomen of the Guests,

And he was neat and fine,

For he thought him at that time

Sufficient in every thing,

To wait upon a King.

But at the doore he did not miss

To give her a smacking kiss.

With oh braveArthur, &c.

To dinner they quickly gat,The Bride betwixt them sat,The Cook to the Dresser did call,The young men then run all,And thought great dignityTo carry up Furmety.Then came leapingLewis,And he call’d hard for Brewis;Stay, quothDavy Rudding,Thou go’st too fast with th’ pudding.Then cameSampson Seal,And he carry’d Mutton and Veal;The old woman scolds full fast,To the Cook she makes great hast,And him she did controul,And swore that the Porridge was cold.With oh brave, &c.

To dinner they quickly gat,

The Bride betwixt them sat,

The Cook to the Dresser did call,

The young men then run all,

And thought great dignity

To carry up Furmety.

Then came leapingLewis,

And he call’d hard for Brewis;

Stay, quothDavy Rudding,

Thou go’st too fast with th’ pudding.

Then cameSampson Seal,

And he carry’d Mutton and Veal;

The old woman scolds full fast,

To the Cook she makes great hast,

And him she did controul,

And swore that the Porridge was cold.

With oh brave, &c.

My Masters a while be brief,Who taketh up the Beef?Then cameWilliam Dickins,[p. 87.]And carries the Snipes & Chickens.Bartholomewbrought up the Mustard,Casterhe carry’d the Custard.In comesRoger Boore,He carry’d up Rabbets before:QuothRoger, I’le give thee a Cake,If thou wilt carry the Drake.[1] Speak not more nor less,Nor of the greatest mess,Nor how the Bride did carve,Nor how the Groom did serveWith oh braveArthur, &c.

My Masters a while be brief,

Who taketh up the Beef?

Then cameWilliam Dickins,[p. 87.]

And carries the Snipes & Chickens.

Bartholomewbrought up the Mustard,

Casterhe carry’d the Custard.

In comesRoger Boore,

He carry’d up Rabbets before:

QuothRoger, I’le give thee a Cake,

If thou wilt carry the Drake.

[1] Speak not more nor less,

Nor of the greatest mess,

Nor how the Bride did carve,

Nor how the Groom did serve

With oh braveArthur, &c.

But when that they had din’d,Then every man had wine;The maids they stood aloof,While the young men made a proof.Who had the nimblest heele,Or who could dance so well,TillHobof the hill fell over,[? oe’r]And over him three or four.Up he got at last,And forward about he past;AtRowlandhe kicks and grins,And he [? hit]Williamore the shins;He takes not any offence,But fleeres upon his wench.The Piper he play’d [a] Fadding,And they ran all a gadding.With oh braveArthur [o’ Bradley], &c.

But when that they had din’d,

Then every man had wine;

The maids they stood aloof,

While the young men made a proof.

Who had the nimblest heele,

Or who could dance so well,

TillHobof the hill fell over,[? oe’r]

And over him three or four.

Up he got at last,

And forward about he past;

AtRowlandhe kicks and grins,

And he [? hit]Williamore the shins;

He takes not any offence,

But fleeres upon his wench.

The Piper he play’d [a] Fadding,

And they ran all a gadding.

With oh braveArthur [o’ Bradley], &c.

(“Wits Merriment,” 1656, pp. 81-7.)

The often mentioned “Arthur o’ Bradley’s Wedding,” a modern version attributed to Mr. Taylor, the actor and singer, is given, not only inSongs and Ballads of the Peasantry, &c., (p. 139 of R. Bell’s Annot. ed.), collected by J. H. Dixon; but also in Berger’sRed, White, and Blue Monster Songbook, p. 394, where the music arranged by S. Hale is stated to be “at Walker’s.”

The reference to “Goldsmith’s Hall” (see p. 363), wherea Roundhead Committee sate in 1647, and later, for the spoliation of Royalists’ estates, levying of fines and acceptance of “Compounders” money, dates the song.

If we are to reckon the “twelve years together by the ears” from January 4, 1641-2, the abortive attempt of Charles I. to arrest at the House “the Five Members” (Pym, Hampden, Haslerig, Denzil Holles, and Strode), we may guess the date of this ballad to be 1653-4. Verse 14 mentions Oliver breaking the Long Parliament (20th April, 1653); and verses 15, 16 refer to the Little, or “Barebones Parliament” July 4, to 2nd December, 1653, (when power was resigned into the hands of Cromwell). Shortly after this, but certainly before Sept. 3rd, 1654 (when the next Parliament, more impracticable and persecuting, met), must be the true date of the ballad. “Robinthe Fool” is “Robin Wisdom,” Robert Andrews. “Fair” is Thomas Lord Fairfax the “Croysado-General.” “Cowardly W——” is probably Philip, Lord Wharton, a Puritan, and Derby-House committee-man; of inferior renown to Atkins in unsavoury matters; but whose own regiment ran away at Edgehill: Wharton then took refuge in a saw-pit. PresidentBradshawdied 22nd Nov., 1659. Dr. IsaacDorislaus, Professor of History at Cambridge, and of Gresham College, apostatized from Charles I., and was sent as agent by the Commons to the Hague, where he was in June, 1649, assassinated by some cavaliers, falsely reported to be commissioned by the gallant Montrose (see the ballad “What though lamented, curst,” &c., in King’s Pamphlets, Brit. Mus.).

“Askew,” is “one Ascham a Scholar, who had been concerned in drawing up the King’s Tryal, and had written a book,” &c., (Clarendon, iii. 369, 1720). This Anthony Ascham, sent as Envoy to Spain from the Parliament in 1649, was slain at Madrid by some Irish officers, (Rapin:) of whom only one, a Protestant, was executed. SeeHarl. Misc.vi. 236-47. All which helped to cause the war with Spain in 1656.

Harry Marten’s evil repute as to women, and lawyer Oliver St. John’s building his house with stones plundered from Peterborough Cathedral, were common topics. “The women’s war,” often referred to as the “bodkin and thimble army,” of 1647, was so called because the “Silly women,” influenced by those who “crept into their houses,” gave up their rings, silver bodkins, spoons and thimbles for support of Parliamentary troops.

We should forOurreadOnly.

An allusion to William Lilly’s predictive almanacks, shewing that this Catch was not much earlier in date than Hilton’s book, 1652. Lilly was the original of Butler’s “Cunning man, hight Sidrophel” inHudibras, Part 2nd, Canto 3. Compare note, p. 353.

For misprintalterem, readalteram.

References should be added to theRumpColl., 1662, i. 95, andLoyal Songs, 1731, i. 92. “Isaack,” is probably Isaac Pennington. Hampden and others were meditating thisjourney to New England, until stopped, most injudiciously, by an order in Council, dated April 6, 1638.

We here give our additional Note, on the “Sessions of the Poets,” reserved fromp. 376.

We believe that Sir John Suckling’s Poem, sometimes called “A Sessions of Wit,” was written in 1636-7; almost certainly before the death of Ben Jonson (6th August, 1637). Among its predecessors were Richard Barnfield’s “Remembrance of some English Poets,” 1598 (given in present volume,p. 273); and Michael Drayton’s “Censure of the Poets,” being a Letter in couplets, addressed to his friend Henry Reynolds; and the striking lines, “On the Time-Poets,” pp. 5-7 ofChoyce Drollery, 1656. The latter we have seen to be anonymous; but they were not impossibly by that very Henry Reynolds, friend of Drayton; although of this authorship no evidence has yet arisen. Of George Daniel’s unprinted “Vindication of Poesie,” 1636-47, we have given specimens on pp.272,280-1, and331-2. Later than Suckling (who died in 1642), another author gave in print “The Great Assizes Holden in Parnassus by Apollo and his Assessors:” at which Sessions are arraigned Mercurius Britannicus, &c., Feb. 11th, 1644-5. This has been attributed to George Wither; most erroneously, as we believe. The mis-appropriation has arisen, probably, from the fact of Wither’s name being earliest on the roll of Jurymen summoned:

“Hee, who was called first in all the List,George Withershight, entitled Satyrist;ThenCary,May, andDavenantwere called forth,Renowned Poets all, and men of worth,If wit may passe for worth: ThenSylvester,Sands,Drayton,Beaumont,Fletcher,Massinger,Shakespeare, andHeywood, Poets good and free,Dramatick writers all, but the first three:These were empanell’d all, and being sworneA just and perfect verdict to return,”&c.(p. 9.)

“Hee, who was called first in all the List,

George Withershight, entitled Satyrist;

ThenCary,May, andDavenantwere called forth,

Renowned Poets all, and men of worth,

If wit may passe for worth: ThenSylvester,

Sands,Drayton,Beaumont,Fletcher,Massinger,

Shakespeare, andHeywood, Poets good and free,

Dramatick writers all, but the first three:

These were empanell’d all, and being sworne

A just and perfect verdict to return,”&c.(p. 9.)

George Wither was quite capable of placing himself first on the list, in such a manner, we admit; but it is incredible to us that, if he had been the author, he couldhave described himself so insultingly as we find in the following lines, and elsewhere:—

“he did protestThatWitherwas a cruell Satyrist;And guilty of the same offence and crime,Whereof he was accused at this time:Therefore for him hee thought it fitter farre,To stand as a Delinquent at the barre,Then to bee now empanell’d in a Jury.George Withersthen, with a Poetick fury,Began to bluster, butApollo’sfrowneMade him forbeare, and lay his choler downe.”(Ibid, p. 11.)

“he did protest

ThatWitherwas a cruell Satyrist;

And guilty of the same offence and crime,

Whereof he was accused at this time:

Therefore for him hee thought it fitter farre,

To stand as a Delinquent at the barre,

Then to bee now empanell’d in a Jury.

George Withersthen, with a Poetick fury,

Began to bluster, butApollo’sfrowne

Made him forbeare, and lay his choler downe.”

(Ibid, p. 11.)

Two much more sparkling and interesting “Sessions of Poets” afterwards appeared, to the tune of Ben Jonson’s “Cook Laurel.” The first of these begins:—

“Apollo, concern’d to see the TransgressionsOur paltry Poets do daily commit,Gave orders once more to summon a Sessions,Severely to punish th’ Abuses of Wit.Will d’Avenantwould fain have been Steward o’ the Court,To have fin’d and amerc’d each man at his will;ButApollo, it seems, had heard a Report,That his choice of new Plays did show h’ had no skill.Besides, some Criticks had ow’d him a spite,And a little before had made the God fret,By letting him know the Laureat did writeThat damnable Farce, ‘The House to be Let.’Intelligence was brought, the Court being setThat a Play Tripartite was very near made;Where maliciousMatt. Clifford, and spirituallSpratt,Were join’d with their Duke, a Peer of the Trade,” &c.

“Apollo, concern’d to see the TransgressionsOur paltry Poets do daily commit,Gave orders once more to summon a Sessions,Severely to punish th’ Abuses of Wit.

“Apollo, concern’d to see the Transgressions

Our paltry Poets do daily commit,

Gave orders once more to summon a Sessions,

Severely to punish th’ Abuses of Wit.

Will d’Avenantwould fain have been Steward o’ the Court,To have fin’d and amerc’d each man at his will;ButApollo, it seems, had heard a Report,That his choice of new Plays did show h’ had no skill.

Will d’Avenantwould fain have been Steward o’ the Court,

To have fin’d and amerc’d each man at his will;

ButApollo, it seems, had heard a Report,

That his choice of new Plays did show h’ had no skill.

Besides, some Criticks had ow’d him a spite,And a little before had made the God fret,By letting him know the Laureat did writeThat damnable Farce, ‘The House to be Let.’

Besides, some Criticks had ow’d him a spite,

And a little before had made the God fret,

By letting him know the Laureat did write

That damnable Farce, ‘The House to be Let.’

Intelligence was brought, the Court being setThat a Play Tripartite was very near made;Where maliciousMatt. Clifford, and spirituallSpratt,Were join’d with their Duke, a Peer of the Trade,” &c.

Intelligence was brought, the Court being set

That a Play Tripartite was very near made;

Where maliciousMatt. Clifford, and spirituallSpratt,

Were join’d with their Duke, a Peer of the Trade,” &c.

The author did not avow himself. It must have been written, we hold, in 1664-5. The second is variously attributed to John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, and to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, being printed in the works of both. It begins:—

“Since the Sons of the Muses grew num’rous and loud,For th’ appeasing so factious and clam’rous a crowd,Apollothought fit in so weighty a cause,T’ establish a government, leader, and laws,” &c.

“Since the Sons of the Muses grew num’rous and loud,

For th’ appeasing so factious and clam’rous a crowd,

Apollothought fit in so weighty a cause,

T’ establish a government, leader, and laws,” &c.

Assembled near Parnassus, Dryden, Etherege, Wycherley, Shadwell, Nat Lee, Settle, Otway, Crowne, Mrs. Aphra Behn, Rawlins, Tom D’Urfey, and Betterton, are in the other verses sketched with point and vivacity; but in malicious satire. It was probably written in 1677. Clever as are these two later “Sessions,” they do not equal Suckling’s, in genial spirit and unforced cheerfulness.

We need not here linger over the whimsical Trial of Tom D’Urfey and Tom Brown (who squabbled between themselves, by the bye), in a still later “Sessions of the Poets Holden at the foot of Parnassus Hill, July the 9th, 1696: London, printed for E. Whitlock, near Stationers’ Hall, 1696”:—a mirthful squib, which does not lay claim to be called poetry. Nor need we do more than mention “A Trip toParnassus; or, the Judgment ofApolloon Dramatic Authors and Performers. A Poem. London, 1788”—which deals with the two George Colmans, Macklin, Macnally, Lewis, &c. Coming to our own century, it is enough to particularize Leigh Hunt’s “Feast of the Poets;” printed in his “Reflector,” December, 1811, and afterwards much altered, generally with improvement (especially in the exclusion of the spiteful attack on Walter Scott). It begins—“’Tother day as Apollo sat pitching his darts,” &c.In 1837 Leigh Hunt wrote another such versical review, viz., “Blue-Stocking Revels; or, The Feast of the Violets.” This was on the numerous “poetesses,” but it cannot be deemed successful. Far superior to it is the clever and interesting “Fable for Critics,” since written by James Russell Lowell in America.

Both as regards its own merit, and as being the parent of many others (none of which has surpassed, or even equalled it), Sir John Suckling’s “Sessions of Poets” must always remain famous. We have not space remaining at command to annotate it with the fulness it deserves.

The type-ornaments inChoyce Drolleryreprint are merely substitutes for the ruder originals, and are not infac-simile, as were the Initial Letters on pages 5 and 7 of ourMerry Drollery, Compleatreprint.

Page 42, line 6, “a Lockeram Band:” Lockram, a cheap sort of linen, see J. O. Halliwell’s valuableDictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words, p. 525, edit. 1874. To this, and to the same author’s 1876 edition of ArchdeaconNares Glossary, we refer readers for other words.

Page 73-77,297,Marchpine, orMarchpane, biscuits often made in fantastic figures of birds or flowers, of sweetened almonds, &c.Scettuall, orSetiwall, the Garden Valerian.Bausons, i.e. badgers.Cockers; boots. Verse fifth omitted fromChoyce Drollery, runs:—

“Her features all as fresh above,As is the grass that grows byDove,And lythe as lass ofKent;Her skin as soft asLemsterwool,As white as snow onPeakish Hull,Or Swan that swims inTrent.”

“Her features all as fresh above,

As is the grass that grows byDove,

And lythe as lass ofKent;

Her skin as soft asLemsterwool,

As white as snow onPeakish Hull,

Or Swan that swims inTrent.”

A few typographical errors crept into sheet G (owing to an accident in the Editor’s final collation with original).P. 81, line 2, readBlacke; line 20, Shaft;p. 85, line 3, Unlesse;p. 86, line 5, Physitian; line 17, that Lawyer’s;p. 87, line 9, That wil stick to the Laws;p. 88, line 8, O that’s a companion;p. 90, first line,basenesse; line 23, nature;p. 91, line 13, add a comma after the word blot;p. 94, line 13, Scepter;p. 96, line 10, Of this;p. 97, line 15, For feare;p. 99, line 6, add a comma;p. 100, line 13, finde. These are allsingle-lettermisprints.

Page 269, line 14, forencreasing, readencreaseth; and end line 28 with a comma.

I. H. in line 35, are the initials of the author, “Iohn Higins.”

Page 270, line 9, add the words—“It is by Sir Wm. Davenant, and entitled ‘The Dying Lover.’”

Page 275, penultimate line, readPoet-Beadle.P. 277, l. 17, for 1698 read 1598.

Page 281, line 20, forliveth, readlives;claime.

Page 289, after line 35, add—“Page 45, ‘As I went toTotnam.’ This is given with the music, in Tom D’Urfey’sPills to purge Melancholy, p. 180, of 1700 and 1719 (vol. iv.) editions; beginning ‘As I came fromTottingham.’ The tune is named ‘Abroad as I was walking.’ Page 52,He that a Tinker; Music by Dr. Jn. Wilson.”

Page 330, after line 10, add—“Fly, boy, fly: Music by Simon Ives, in Playford’sSelect Ayres, 1659, p. 90.”

The date of “The Zealous Puritan,”M. D. C., p. 95, was 1639. “He that intends,” &c.,Ibid., p. 342, is theVituperium Uxoris, by John Cleveland, written before 1658 (Poems, 1661, p. 169).

“Love should take no wrong,” inWestminster-Drollery, 1671, i. 90, dates back seventy years, to 1601: with music by Robert Jones, in his Second Book of Songs, Song 5.

Introduction to Merry Drollery (our second volume) p. xxii. lines 20, 21. Since writing the above, we have had the pleasure of reading the excellent “Memoir of Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland,” and the “Althorp Memoirs,” by G. Steinman Steinman, Esq., F. S. A., (printed for Private Circulation, 1871, 1869); by the former work, p. 22, we are led to discredit Mrs. Jameson’s assertion that the night of May 29, 1660, was spent by Charles II. in the house of Sir Samuel Morland at Vauxhall. “This knight and friend of the King’smayhave had a residence in the parish of Lambeth before the Restoration, but as he was an Under Secretary of State at the time, it is more probable that he lived in London; andas he did not obtain from the Crown a lease of Vauxhall mansion and grounds until April 19, 1675, the foundations of a very improbable story, whoever originated it, are considerably shaken.” Mr. Steinman inclines to believe the real place of meeting was Whitehall. He has given a list of Charles II.’s male companions in the Court at Bruges, with short biographies, in theArchæologia, xxxv. pp. 335-349. We knew not of this list when writing our Introduction toChoyce Drollery.

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