THE KING OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER.

36, G. G. W., in her sight.

From Thomas Deloney'sGarland of Good Will, as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 52. Other copies are inOld Ballads, (1723,) i. 181, Ritson'sAncient Songs, ii. 136, and Percy'sReliques, iii. 207,—the last altered by the editor.

In the days of old,When fair France did flourish,Stories plainly toldLovers felt annoy.The king a daughter had,5Beauteous, fair, and lovely,Which made her father glad,She was his only joy.A prince of England came,Whose deeds did merit fame,10He woo'd her long, and lo, at last,Look, what he did require,She granted his desire,Their hearts in one were linked fast.Which when her father proved,15Lord, how he was movedAnd tormented in his mind;He sought for to prevent them,And to discontent them,—Fortune crosses lovers kind.20Whenas these princely twainWere thus debarr'd of pleasure,Through the king's disdain,Which their joys withstood,The lady lockt up close25Her jewels and her treasure,Having no remorseOf state or royal blood.In homely poor array,She wentfrom courtaway,30To meet her love and heart's delight;Who in a forest great,Had taken up his seat,To wait her coming in the night.But lo, what sudden danger,35To this princely stranger,Chancèd as he sat alone,By outlaws he was robbed,And with poinard stabbed,Uttering many a dying groan.40The princess, armed by him,And by true desire,Wandering all that night,Without dread at all,Still unknown, she past45In her strange attire,Coming at the lastWithin echo's call."You fair woods," quoth she,"Honoured may you be,50Harbouring my heart's delight,Which doth encompass here,My joy and only dear,My trusty friend, and comely knight.Sweet, I come unto thee,55Sweet, I come to wooe thee,That thou may'st not angry be;For my long delaying,And thy courteous staying,Amends for all I make to thee."60Passing thus aloneThrough the silent forest,Many a grievous groanSounded in her ear;Where she heard a man65To lament the sorestChance that ever came,Forc'd by deadly fear."Farewel, my dear!" quoth he,"Whom I shall never see,70For why, my life is at an end;For thy sweet sake I die,Through villain's cruelty,To shew I am a faithful friend.Here lie I a-bleeding,75While my thoughts are feedingOn the rarest beauty found;O hard hap that may be,Little knows my ladyMy heart-blood lies on the ground!"80With that he gave a groanThat did break asunderAll the tender stringsOf his gentle heart:She, who knew his voice,85At his tale did wonder;All her former joysDid to grief convert.Straight she ran to seeWho this man should be,90That so like her love did speak;And found, whenas she came,Her lovely lord lay slain,Smeer'd in blood which life did break.Which when that she espied,95Lord, how sore she cried!Her sorrows could not counted be;Her eyes like fountains running,While she cryed out, "My darling,Would God that I had dy'd for thee!"100His pale lips, alas!Twenty times she kisséd,And his face did washWith her brinish tears;Every bleeding wound105Her fair face bedewed,Wiping off the bloodWith her golden hairs.["Speak, my love," quoth she,]"Speak, fair prince, to me;110One sweet word of comfort give;Lift up thy fair eyes,Listen to my cries,Think in what great grief I live."All in vain she sued,115All in vain she wooed,The prince's life was fled and gone;There stood she still mourning'Till the sun's returning,And bright day was coming on.120In this great distressQuoth this royal lady,"Who can now expressWhat will become of me?To my father's court125Never will I wander,But some service seekWhere I may placed be."Whilst she thus made her moan,Weeping all alone,130In this deep and deadly fear,A forester all in green,Most comely to be seen,Ranging the wood did find her there,Round beset with sorrow.135"Maid," quoth he, "good morrow.What hard hap hath brought you here?""Harder hap did neverChance to a maiden ever;Here lies slain my brother dear.140"Where might I be plac'd,Gentle forester tell me;Where might I procureA service in my need?Pains I will not spare,145But will do my duty;Ease me of my care,Help my extream need."The forester all amazedOn her beauty gazed,150'Till his heart was set on fire:"If, fair maid," quoth he,"You will go with me,You shall have your heart's desire."He brought her to his mother,155And above all otherHe set forth this maiden's praise:Long was his heart inflamed,At length her love he gained,So fortune did his glory raise.160Thus unknown he matchtWith the king's fair daughter;Children seven he had,Ere she to him was known.But when he understood165She was a royal princess,By this means at lastHe shewèd forth her fame:He cloath'd his children thenNot like other men,170In party colours strange to see;The right side cloth of gold,The left side to beholdOf woollen cloth still framèd he.Men thereat did wonder,175Golden fame did thunderThis strange deed in every place;The king of France came thitherBeing pleasant weather,In the woods the hart to chase.180The children there did stand,As their mother willèd,Where the royal kingMust of force come by;Their mother richly clad185In fair crimson velvet,Their father all in gray,Most comely to the eye.When this famous king,Noting every thing,190Did ask him how he durst be so bold,To let his wife to wear,And deck his children there,In costly robes of pearl and gold,—The forester bold replièd,195And the cause descrièd,And to the king he thus did say:"Well may they by their motherWear rich gold like other,Being by birth a princess gay."200The king upon these wordsMore heedfully beheld them,Till a crimson blushHis conceit did cross."The more I look," quoth he,205"Upon thy wife and children,The more I call to mindMy daughter whom I lost.""I am that Child," quoth she,Falling on her knee;210"Pardon me my soveraign liege!"The king perceiving thisHis daughter dear did kiss,Till joyful tears did stop his speech.With his train he turnèd,215And with her sojournèd;Straight he dubb'd her husband knight;He made him Earl of Flanders,One of his chief commanders;—Thus was their sorrow put to flight.220

Whenas these princely twainWere thus debarr'd of pleasure,Through the king's disdain,Which their joys withstood,The lady lockt up close25Her jewels and her treasure,Having no remorseOf state or royal blood.In homely poor array,She wentfrom courtaway,30To meet her love and heart's delight;Who in a forest great,Had taken up his seat,To wait her coming in the night.But lo, what sudden danger,35To this princely stranger,Chancèd as he sat alone,By outlaws he was robbed,And with poinard stabbed,Uttering many a dying groan.40

The princess, armed by him,And by true desire,Wandering all that night,Without dread at all,Still unknown, she past45In her strange attire,Coming at the lastWithin echo's call."You fair woods," quoth she,"Honoured may you be,50Harbouring my heart's delight,Which doth encompass here,My joy and only dear,My trusty friend, and comely knight.Sweet, I come unto thee,55Sweet, I come to wooe thee,That thou may'st not angry be;For my long delaying,And thy courteous staying,Amends for all I make to thee."60

Passing thus aloneThrough the silent forest,Many a grievous groanSounded in her ear;Where she heard a man65To lament the sorestChance that ever came,Forc'd by deadly fear."Farewel, my dear!" quoth he,"Whom I shall never see,70For why, my life is at an end;For thy sweet sake I die,Through villain's cruelty,To shew I am a faithful friend.Here lie I a-bleeding,75While my thoughts are feedingOn the rarest beauty found;O hard hap that may be,Little knows my ladyMy heart-blood lies on the ground!"80

With that he gave a groanThat did break asunderAll the tender stringsOf his gentle heart:She, who knew his voice,85At his tale did wonder;All her former joysDid to grief convert.Straight she ran to seeWho this man should be,90That so like her love did speak;And found, whenas she came,Her lovely lord lay slain,Smeer'd in blood which life did break.Which when that she espied,95Lord, how sore she cried!Her sorrows could not counted be;Her eyes like fountains running,While she cryed out, "My darling,Would God that I had dy'd for thee!"100

His pale lips, alas!Twenty times she kisséd,And his face did washWith her brinish tears;Every bleeding wound105Her fair face bedewed,Wiping off the bloodWith her golden hairs.["Speak, my love," quoth she,]"Speak, fair prince, to me;110One sweet word of comfort give;Lift up thy fair eyes,Listen to my cries,Think in what great grief I live."All in vain she sued,115All in vain she wooed,The prince's life was fled and gone;There stood she still mourning'Till the sun's returning,And bright day was coming on.120

In this great distressQuoth this royal lady,"Who can now expressWhat will become of me?To my father's court125Never will I wander,But some service seekWhere I may placed be."Whilst she thus made her moan,Weeping all alone,130In this deep and deadly fear,A forester all in green,Most comely to be seen,Ranging the wood did find her there,Round beset with sorrow.135"Maid," quoth he, "good morrow.What hard hap hath brought you here?""Harder hap did neverChance to a maiden ever;Here lies slain my brother dear.140

"Where might I be plac'd,Gentle forester tell me;Where might I procureA service in my need?Pains I will not spare,145But will do my duty;Ease me of my care,Help my extream need."The forester all amazedOn her beauty gazed,150'Till his heart was set on fire:"If, fair maid," quoth he,"You will go with me,You shall have your heart's desire."He brought her to his mother,155And above all otherHe set forth this maiden's praise:Long was his heart inflamed,At length her love he gained,So fortune did his glory raise.160

Thus unknown he matchtWith the king's fair daughter;Children seven he had,Ere she to him was known.But when he understood165She was a royal princess,By this means at lastHe shewèd forth her fame:He cloath'd his children thenNot like other men,170In party colours strange to see;The right side cloth of gold,The left side to beholdOf woollen cloth still framèd he.Men thereat did wonder,175Golden fame did thunderThis strange deed in every place;The king of France came thitherBeing pleasant weather,In the woods the hart to chase.180

The children there did stand,As their mother willèd,Where the royal kingMust of force come by;Their mother richly clad185In fair crimson velvet,Their father all in gray,Most comely to the eye.When this famous king,Noting every thing,190Did ask him how he durst be so bold,To let his wife to wear,And deck his children there,In costly robes of pearl and gold,—The forester bold replièd,195And the cause descrièd,And to the king he thus did say:"Well may they by their motherWear rich gold like other,Being by birth a princess gay."200

The king upon these wordsMore heedfully beheld them,Till a crimson blushHis conceit did cross."The more I look," quoth he,205"Upon thy wife and children,The more I call to mindMy daughter whom I lost.""I am that Child," quoth she,Falling on her knee;210"Pardon me my soveraign liege!"The king perceiving thisHis daughter dear did kiss,Till joyful tears did stop his speech.With his train he turnèd,215And with her sojournèd;Straight he dubb'd her husband knight;He made him Earl of Flanders,One of his chief commanders;—Thus was their sorrow put to flight.220

12, Took.30, to court.109, fromOld Ballads, 1723.169-174. "This will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half cloth of gold, and half frieze, with the following motto:'Cloth of Gold, do not despise,Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize;Cloth of Frize, be not too bold,Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold.'See Sir W. Temple's Misc. vol. iii. p. 356."Percy.178, king he coming.

12, Took.

30, to court.

109, fromOld Ballads, 1723.

169-174. "This will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half cloth of gold, and half frieze, with the following motto:

'Cloth of Gold, do not despise,Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize;Cloth of Frize, be not too bold,Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold.'

See Sir W. Temple's Misc. vol. iii. p. 356."Percy.

178, king he coming.

From Collier'sBook of Roxburghe Ballads, p. 163.

"This romantic ballad, in a somewhat plain and unpretending style, relates incidents that may remind the reader of the old story of Titus and Gisippus, which was told in English verse by Edw. Lewicke, as early as 1562: the ballad is not so ancient by, perhaps, thirty or forty years; and the printed copy that has come down to our day is at least fifty years more recent than the date when we believe the ballad to have been first published. The title the broadside ('Printed for F. Coles, J. W., T. Vere, W. Gilbertson,') bears is, 'Constance of Cleveland: A very excellent Sonnet of the most fair Lady Constance of Cleveland, and her disloyal Knight.' We conclude that the incidents are mere invention, butConstance of Romeis the name of a play, by Drayton, Munday and Hathway, mentioned in Henslowe's Diary under the year 1600, (p. 171.) The tune ofCrimson Velvetwas highly popular in the reigns of Elizabeth and her successor."

To the Tune ofCrimson Velvet.

It was a youthfull knightLov'd a gallant lady;Fair she was and bright,And of vertues rare:Herself she did behave5So courteously as may be;Wedded they were brave;Joy without compare.Here began the grief,Pain without relief:10Her husband soon her love forsook,To women lewd of mind,Being bad inclin'd,He only lent a pleasant look.The lady she sate weeping,15While that he was keepingCompany with others moe:Her words, "My love, beleeve not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."20His fair Ladie's wordsNothing he regarded;Wantonnesse affordsSuch delightfull sport.While they dance and sing,25With great mirth prepared,She her hands did wringIn most grievous sort."O what hap had IThus to wail and cry,30Unrespected every day,Living in disdain,While that others gainAll the right I should enjoy!I am left forsaken,35Others they are taken:Ah my love! why dost thou so?Her flatteries beleeve not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."40The Knight with his fair peeceAt length the Lady spied,Who did him daily fleeceOf his wealth and store:Secretly she stood,45While she her fashions tryed,With a patient mind,While deep the strumpet swore."O Sir Knight, O Sir Knight," quoth she,"So dearly I love thee,50My life doth rest at thy dispose:By day, and eke by night,For thy sweet delight,Thou shalt me in thy arms inclose.I am thine for ever;55Still I will perseverTrue to thee, where ere I go.""Her flatteries believe not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."60The vertuous Lady mildEnters then among them,Being big with childAs ever she might be:With distilling tears65She looked then upon them;Filled full of fears,Thus replyed she:"Ah, my love and dear!Wherefore stay you here,70Refusing me, your loving wife,For an harlot's sake,Which each one will take;Whose vile deeds provoke much strife?Many can accuse her:75O my love, O my love, refuse her!With thy lady home return.Her flatteries beleeve not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."80All in a fury thenThe angry Knight up started,Very furious whenHe heard his Ladie's speech.With many bitter terms85His wife he ever thwarted,Using hard extreams,While she did him beseech.From her neck so whiteHe took away in spite90Her curious chain of purest gold,Her jewels and her rings,And all such costly thingsAs he about her did behold.The harlot in her presence95He did gently reverence,And to her he gave them all:He sent away his Lady,Full of wo as may be,Who in a swound with grief did fall.100At the Ladie's wrongThe harlot fleer'd and laughed;Enticements are so strong,They overcome the wise.The Knight nothing regarded105To see the Lady scoffed:Thus was she rewardedFor her enterprise.The harlot, all this space,Did him oft embrace;110She flatters him, and thus doth say:"For thee Ile dye and live,For thee my faith Ile give,No wo shall work my love's decay;Thou shalt be my treasure,115Thou shalt be my pleasure,Thou shalt be my heart's delight:I will be thy darling,I will be thy worldling,In despight of fortune's spight."120Thus he did remainIn wastfull great expences,Till it bred his pain,And consumed him quite.When his lands were spent,125Troubled in his sences,Then he did repentOf his late lewd life.For relief he hies,For relief he flyes130To them on whom he spent his gold:They do him deny,They do him defie;They will not once his face behold.Being thus distressed,135Being thus oppressed,In the fields that night he lay;Which the harlot knowing,Through her malice growing,Sought to take his life away.140A young and proper ladThey had slain in secretFor the gold he had,Whom they did conveyBy a ruffian lewd145To that place directly,Where the youthful KnightFast a sleeping lay.The bloody dagger than,Wherewith they kill'd the man,150Hard by the Knight he likewise laid,Sprinkling him with blood,As he thought it good,And then no longer there he stayd.The Knight, being so abused,155Was forthwith accusedFor this murder which was done;And he was condemnedThat had not offended;Shamefull death he might not shun.160When the Lady brightUnderstood the matter,That her wedded KnightWas condemn'd to dye,To the King she went165With all the speed that might be,Where she did lamentHer hard destiny."Noble King!" quoth she,"Pitty take on me,170And pardon my poor husbands life;Else I am undone,With my little son:Let mercy mitigate this grief.""Lady fair, content thee;175Soon thou wouldst repent thee,If he should be saved so:Sore he hath abus'd thee,Sore he hath misus'd thee;Therefore, Lady, let him go."180"O my liege!" quoth she,"Grant your gracious favour:Dear he is to me,Though he did me wrong."The King reply'd again,185With a stern behaviour,"A subject he hath slain,Dye he shall ere long:Except thou canst findAny one so kind,190That will dye and set him free.""Noble King!" she said,"Glad am I apaid;That same person will I be.I will suffer duly,195I will suffer truly,For my love and husbands sake."The King thereat amazed,Though he her beauty praised,He bad from thence they should her take.It was the King's command,201On the morrow afterShe should out of handTo the scaffold go:Her husband was205To bear the sword before her;He must eke, alas!Give the deadly blow.He refus'd the deed;She bid him to proceed,210With a thousand kisses sweet.In this wofull caseThey did both imbrace,Which mov'd the ruffians in that placeStraight for to discover215This concealed murder;Whereby the lady saved was.The harlot then was hanged,As she well deserved:This did vertue bring to passe.220

His fair Ladie's wordsNothing he regarded;Wantonnesse affordsSuch delightfull sport.While they dance and sing,25With great mirth prepared,She her hands did wringIn most grievous sort."O what hap had IThus to wail and cry,30Unrespected every day,Living in disdain,While that others gainAll the right I should enjoy!I am left forsaken,35Others they are taken:Ah my love! why dost thou so?Her flatteries beleeve not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."40

The Knight with his fair peeceAt length the Lady spied,Who did him daily fleeceOf his wealth and store:Secretly she stood,45While she her fashions tryed,With a patient mind,While deep the strumpet swore."O Sir Knight, O Sir Knight," quoth she,"So dearly I love thee,50My life doth rest at thy dispose:By day, and eke by night,For thy sweet delight,Thou shalt me in thy arms inclose.I am thine for ever;55Still I will perseverTrue to thee, where ere I go.""Her flatteries believe not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."60

The vertuous Lady mildEnters then among them,Being big with childAs ever she might be:With distilling tears65She looked then upon them;Filled full of fears,Thus replyed she:"Ah, my love and dear!Wherefore stay you here,70Refusing me, your loving wife,For an harlot's sake,Which each one will take;Whose vile deeds provoke much strife?Many can accuse her:75O my love, O my love, refuse her!With thy lady home return.Her flatteries beleeve not,Come to me, and grieve not;Wantons will thee overthrow."80

All in a fury thenThe angry Knight up started,Very furious whenHe heard his Ladie's speech.With many bitter terms85His wife he ever thwarted,Using hard extreams,While she did him beseech.From her neck so whiteHe took away in spite90Her curious chain of purest gold,Her jewels and her rings,And all such costly thingsAs he about her did behold.The harlot in her presence95He did gently reverence,And to her he gave them all:He sent away his Lady,Full of wo as may be,Who in a swound with grief did fall.100

At the Ladie's wrongThe harlot fleer'd and laughed;Enticements are so strong,They overcome the wise.The Knight nothing regarded105To see the Lady scoffed:Thus was she rewardedFor her enterprise.The harlot, all this space,Did him oft embrace;110She flatters him, and thus doth say:"For thee Ile dye and live,For thee my faith Ile give,No wo shall work my love's decay;Thou shalt be my treasure,115Thou shalt be my pleasure,Thou shalt be my heart's delight:I will be thy darling,I will be thy worldling,In despight of fortune's spight."120

Thus he did remainIn wastfull great expences,Till it bred his pain,And consumed him quite.When his lands were spent,125Troubled in his sences,Then he did repentOf his late lewd life.For relief he hies,For relief he flyes130To them on whom he spent his gold:They do him deny,They do him defie;They will not once his face behold.Being thus distressed,135Being thus oppressed,In the fields that night he lay;Which the harlot knowing,Through her malice growing,Sought to take his life away.140

A young and proper ladThey had slain in secretFor the gold he had,Whom they did conveyBy a ruffian lewd145To that place directly,Where the youthful KnightFast a sleeping lay.The bloody dagger than,Wherewith they kill'd the man,150Hard by the Knight he likewise laid,Sprinkling him with blood,As he thought it good,And then no longer there he stayd.The Knight, being so abused,155Was forthwith accusedFor this murder which was done;And he was condemnedThat had not offended;Shamefull death he might not shun.160

When the Lady brightUnderstood the matter,That her wedded KnightWas condemn'd to dye,To the King she went165With all the speed that might be,Where she did lamentHer hard destiny."Noble King!" quoth she,"Pitty take on me,170And pardon my poor husbands life;Else I am undone,With my little son:Let mercy mitigate this grief.""Lady fair, content thee;175Soon thou wouldst repent thee,If he should be saved so:Sore he hath abus'd thee,Sore he hath misus'd thee;Therefore, Lady, let him go."180

"O my liege!" quoth she,"Grant your gracious favour:Dear he is to me,Though he did me wrong."The King reply'd again,185With a stern behaviour,"A subject he hath slain,Dye he shall ere long:Except thou canst findAny one so kind,190That will dye and set him free.""Noble King!" she said,"Glad am I apaid;That same person will I be.I will suffer duly,195I will suffer truly,For my love and husbands sake."The King thereat amazed,Though he her beauty praised,He bad from thence they should her take.

It was the King's command,201On the morrow afterShe should out of handTo the scaffold go:Her husband was205To bear the sword before her;He must eke, alas!Give the deadly blow.He refus'd the deed;She bid him to proceed,210With a thousand kisses sweet.In this wofull caseThey did both imbrace,Which mov'd the ruffians in that placeStraight for to discover215This concealed murder;Whereby the lady saved was.The harlot then was hanged,As she well deserved:This did vertue bring to passe.220

From Percy'sReliques, i. 210.

This is the "song of willow" from which Desdemona sings snatches in the Fourth Act ofOthello, (Sc. 3.) The portions which occur in Shakespeare are the first stanza, and fragments of the fifth, sixth, and seventh; he also introduces a couplet which does not belong to the ballad as here given.

The Second Part is very likely a separate composition. Songs upon this model or with the same burden were not infrequent. See one in Park'sHeliconia, Part i. 132, and another inThe Moral Play of Wit and Science, (Shakespeare Society,) p. 86.

Percy gave this song from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, entitledA Lover's Complaint, being forsaken of his Love. Another version, differing principally in arrangement, is printed in the above cited publication of the Shakespeare Society, p. 126, from a MS. in the British Museum, "written about the year 1633."

A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;O willow, willow, willow!With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee.O willow, willow, willow!O willow, willow, willow!5Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,Come willow, &c."I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone.O willow, &c.10Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove;O willow, &c.She renders me nothing but hate for my love.O willow, &c.15Sing, O the greene willow, &c."O pitty me," cried he, "ye lovers, each one;O willow, &c.Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.O willow, &c.20Sing, O the greene willow, &c."The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.O willow, &c.25Sing, O the greene willow, &c.The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones;O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.O willow, &c.30Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove;O willow, &c.She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.O willow, &c.35Sing, O the greene willow, &c."O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!Sing willow, &c.My true love rejecting without all regard.O willow, &c.40Sing, O the greene willow, &c."Let love no more boast him in palace or bower;O willow, &c.For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.O willow, &c.45Sing, O the greene willow, &c."But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine:O willow, &c.I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.O willow, &c.50Sing, O the greene willow, &c."Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,O willow, &c.He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she.O willow, &c.55Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet;O willow, &c.A garland for lovers forsaken most meete.O willow, &c.60Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!"

He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,Come willow, &c."I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone.O willow, &c.10Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove;O willow, &c.She renders me nothing but hate for my love.O willow, &c.15Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"O pitty me," cried he, "ye lovers, each one;O willow, &c.Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.O willow, &c.20Sing, O the greene willow, &c."

The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.O willow, &c.25Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones;O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.O willow, &c.30Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove;O willow, &c.She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.O willow, &c.35Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!Sing willow, &c.My true love rejecting without all regard.O willow, &c.40Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"Let love no more boast him in palace or bower;O willow, &c.For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.O willow, &c.45Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine:O willow, &c.I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.O willow, &c.50Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,O willow, &c.He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she.O willow, &c.55Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet;O willow, &c.A garland for lovers forsaken most meete.O willow, &c.60Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!"

"Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine,O willow, willow, willow!Against her too cruell, still, still I complaine.O willow, willow, willow!O willow, willow, willow!5Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!"O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart,O willow, &c.To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart!O willow, &c.10Sing, O the greene willow, &c."O willow, willow, willow! the willow garlànd,O willow, &c.A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand.O willow, &c.15Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."As here it doth bid to despair and to dye,O willow, &c.So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye.O willow, &c.20Sing, O the greene willow, &c."In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view,O willow, &c.Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue.O willow, &c.25Sing, O the greene willow, &c."With these words engraven, as epitaph meet,O willow, &c.'Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet.'O willow, &c.30Sing, O the greene willow, &c."Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love,O willow, &c.And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove;O willow, &c.35Sing, O the greene willow, &c."I cannot against her unkindly exclaim,O willow, &c.Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name.O willow, &c.40Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare,O willow, &c.It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare;O willow, &c.45Sing, O the greene willow, &c."As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe;O willow, &c.It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe.O willow, &c.50Sing, O the greene willow, &c."Farewell, faire false hearted, plaints end with my breath!O willow, willow, willow!Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death.O willow, willow, willow!55O willow, willow, willow!Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."

"O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart,O willow, &c.To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart!O willow, &c.10Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"O willow, willow, willow! the willow garlànd,O willow, &c.A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand.O willow, &c.15Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"As here it doth bid to despair and to dye,O willow, &c.So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye.O willow, &c.20Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view,O willow, &c.Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue.O willow, &c.25Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"With these words engraven, as epitaph meet,O willow, &c.'Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet.'O willow, &c.30Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love,O willow, &c.And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove;O willow, &c.35Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"I cannot against her unkindly exclaim,O willow, &c.Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name.O willow, &c.40Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare,O willow, &c.It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare;O willow, &c.45Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe;O willow, &c.It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe.O willow, &c.50Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"Farewell, faire false hearted, plaints end with my breath!O willow, willow, willow!Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death.O willow, willow, willow!55O willow, willow, willow!Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."

FromA Handefull of Pleasant Delites, &c., London, 1584, as reprinted in Park'sHeliconia, vol. ii. p. 23. It is there entitledA New Courtly Sonet of the Lady Greensleeves. To the new Tune of Greensleeves.

"The earliest mention of the ballad ofGreen Sleeves, in the Registers of the Stationers' Company, is in September, 1580, when Richard Jones had licensed to himA New Northern Dittye of the Lady Green Sleeves."

"Green Sleeves, orWhich nobody can deny, has been a favorite tune from the time of Elizabeth to the present day, and is still frequently to be heard in the streets of London to songs with the old burden,Which nobody can deny. It will also be recognized as the air ofChristmas comes but once a year, and many another merry ditty."Chappell'sPopular Music of the Olden Time, p. 227.

Greensleevesis twice alluded to by Shakespeare inThe Merry Wives of Windsor; Act ii. Sc. 1; Act v. Sc. 5.

Alas, my love, ye do me wrongTo cast me oft discurteously,And I have loved you so long,Delighting in your companie.Greensleeves was all my joy,Greensleeves was my delight,Greensleeves was my heart of gold,And who but Ladie Greensleeves.I have been readie at your hand5To grant what ever you would crave;I have both waged life and land,Your love and good will for to have.Greensleeves was all my joy, &c.I bought thee kerchers to thy headThat were wrought fine and gallantly;10I kept thee both at boord and bed,Which cost my purse well favouredly.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.I bought thee peticotes of the best,The cloth so fine as fine might be;I gave thee jewels for thy chest,15And all this cost I spent on thee.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thy smock of silke, both faire and white,With gold embrodered gorgeously,Thy peticote of sendall right,And thisI bought thee gladly.20Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thy girdle of gold so red,With pearles bedecked sumtuously,—The like no other lasses had,—And yet thou wouldest not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thy purse, and eke thy gay guilt knives,25Thy pincase, gallant to the eie,—No better wore the burgesse wives,—And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joy, &c.Thy crimson stockings, all of silk,With golde all wrought above the knee;30Thy pumps, as white as was the milk,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thy gown was of the grassie green,Thy sleeves of satten hanging by,Which made thee be our harvest queen,35And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thy garters fringed with the golde,And silver aglets hanging by,Which made thee blithe for to beholde,—And yet thou wouldst not love me.40Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.My gayest gelding I thee gave,To ride where ever liked thee,No ladie ever was so brave,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.My men were clothed all in green,45And they did ever wait on thee;All this was gallant to be seen,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.They set thee up, they took thee downe,They served thee with humilitie;50Thy foote might not once touch the ground,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.For everie morning, when thou rose,I sent thee dainties, orderly,To cheare thy stomack from all woes,55And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Thou couldst desire no earthly thingBut stil thou hadst it readily;Thy musicke still to play and sing,And yet thou wouldst not love me.60Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.And who did pay for all this geare,That thou didst spend when pleased thee?Even I that am rejected here,And thou disdainst to love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Wel, I wil pray to God on hie65That thou my constancie maist see,And that yet once before I dieThou will vouchsafe to love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.Greensleeves, now farewel, adue!God I pray to prosper thee,70For I am stil thy lover true;Come once againe, and love me!Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

I have been readie at your hand5To grant what ever you would crave;I have both waged life and land,Your love and good will for to have.Greensleeves was all my joy, &c.

I bought thee kerchers to thy headThat were wrought fine and gallantly;10I kept thee both at boord and bed,Which cost my purse well favouredly.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

I bought thee peticotes of the best,The cloth so fine as fine might be;I gave thee jewels for thy chest,15And all this cost I spent on thee.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thy smock of silke, both faire and white,With gold embrodered gorgeously,Thy peticote of sendall right,And thisI bought thee gladly.20Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thy girdle of gold so red,With pearles bedecked sumtuously,—The like no other lasses had,—And yet thou wouldest not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thy purse, and eke thy gay guilt knives,25Thy pincase, gallant to the eie,—No better wore the burgesse wives,—And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joy, &c.

Thy crimson stockings, all of silk,With golde all wrought above the knee;30Thy pumps, as white as was the milk,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thy gown was of the grassie green,Thy sleeves of satten hanging by,Which made thee be our harvest queen,35And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thy garters fringed with the golde,And silver aglets hanging by,Which made thee blithe for to beholde,—And yet thou wouldst not love me.40Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

My gayest gelding I thee gave,To ride where ever liked thee,No ladie ever was so brave,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

My men were clothed all in green,45And they did ever wait on thee;All this was gallant to be seen,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

They set thee up, they took thee downe,They served thee with humilitie;50Thy foote might not once touch the ground,And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

For everie morning, when thou rose,I sent thee dainties, orderly,To cheare thy stomack from all woes,55And yet thou wouldst not love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Thou couldst desire no earthly thingBut stil thou hadst it readily;Thy musicke still to play and sing,And yet thou wouldst not love me.60Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

And who did pay for all this geare,That thou didst spend when pleased thee?Even I that am rejected here,And thou disdainst to love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Wel, I wil pray to God on hie65That thou my constancie maist see,And that yet once before I dieThou will vouchsafe to love me.Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

Greensleeves, now farewel, adue!God I pray to prosper thee,70For I am stil thy lover true;Come once againe, and love me!Greensleeves was all my joie, &c.

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