Thisexcellent song is ancient: but we could only give it from a modern copy.
[Earlier editions of this spirited song are printed in Evans'sOld Ballads, iii. 282 (1810), and Rimbault'sLittle Bookof Songs and Ballads, p. 137. It is quoted in Brome'sSparagusGarden, acted in 1635, and Shirley'sConstant Maidwas republished in 1661, under the title ofLove will find out the Way, by T. B.Dr. Rimbault has the following note in hisMusical Illustrations, "The old black-letter copy of this ballad is called 'Truth's Integrity:or, a curious Northerne Ditty, calledLove will finde out the Way. To a pleasant new Tune Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in the Old Bailey.' There is a second part consisting of six stanzas, which Percy has not reprinted. The tune is here given (translated from theTablature) fromMusicks Recreation on the Lyra Viol, published by Playford in 1652. It is also preserved in Forbes'sCantus, 1662; inMusick's Delight on the Cithren, 1666; and in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, 1719. ThePepysian Collectioncontains several ballads to this tune."Mr. Chappell writes, "The air is still current, for in the summer of 1855, Mr. Jennings, Organist of All Saints' Church, Maidstone, noted it down from the wandering hop-pickers singing a song to it on their entrance into that town."Popular Music, vol. i. p. 304.]
[Earlier editions of this spirited song are printed in Evans'sOld Ballads, iii. 282 (1810), and Rimbault'sLittle Bookof Songs and Ballads, p. 137. It is quoted in Brome'sSparagusGarden, acted in 1635, and Shirley'sConstant Maidwas republished in 1661, under the title ofLove will find out the Way, by T. B.
Dr. Rimbault has the following note in hisMusical Illustrations, "The old black-letter copy of this ballad is called 'Truth's Integrity:or, a curious Northerne Ditty, calledLove will finde out the Way. To a pleasant new Tune Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in the Old Bailey.' There is a second part consisting of six stanzas, which Percy has not reprinted. The tune is here given (translated from theTablature) fromMusicks Recreation on the Lyra Viol, published by Playford in 1652. It is also preserved in Forbes'sCantus, 1662; inMusick's Delight on the Cithren, 1666; and in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, 1719. ThePepysian Collectioncontains several ballads to this tune."
Mr. Chappell writes, "The air is still current, for in the summer of 1855, Mr. Jennings, Organist of All Saints' Church, Maidstone, noted it down from the wandering hop-pickers singing a song to it on their entrance into that town."Popular Music, vol. i. p. 304.]
Over the mountains,And over the waves;Under the fountains,And under the graves;Under the floods that are deepest,5Which Neptune obey;Over rocks that are steepest,Love will find out the way.Where there is no placeFor the glow-worm to lye;10Where there is no spaceFor receipt of a fly;Where the midge dares not venture,Lest herself fast she lay;If love come, he will enter,15And soon find out his way.You may esteem himA child for his might;Or you may deem himA coward from his flight;20But if she, whom love doth honour,Be conceal'd from the day,Set a thousand guards upon her,Love will find out the way.Some think to lose him,25By having him confin'd;And some do suppose him,Poor thing, to be blind;But if ne'er so close ye wall him,Do the best that you may,30Blind love, if so ye call him,Will find out his way.You may train the eagleTo stoop to your fist;Or you may inveigle35The phenix of the east;The lioness, ye may move herTo give o'er her prey;But you'll ne'er stop a lover:He will find out his way.
Over the mountains,And over the waves;Under the fountains,And under the graves;Under the floods that are deepest,5Which Neptune obey;Over rocks that are steepest,Love will find out the way.
Where there is no placeFor the glow-worm to lye;10Where there is no spaceFor receipt of a fly;Where the midge dares not venture,Lest herself fast she lay;If love come, he will enter,15And soon find out his way.
You may esteem himA child for his might;Or you may deem himA coward from his flight;20
But if she, whom love doth honour,Be conceal'd from the day,Set a thousand guards upon her,Love will find out the way.
Some think to lose him,25By having him confin'd;And some do suppose him,Poor thing, to be blind;But if ne'er so close ye wall him,Do the best that you may,30Blind love, if so ye call him,Will find out his way.
You may train the eagleTo stoop to your fist;Or you may inveigle35The phenix of the east;The lioness, ye may move herTo give o'er her prey;But you'll ne'er stop a lover:He will find out his way.
⁂
A Scottish Ballad,
Seemsto be composed (not without improvements) out of two ancient English ones, printed in the former part of this volume. See book i. ballad xv. and book ii. ballad iv.—If this had been the original, the authors of those two ballads would hardly have adopted two such different stories: besides, this contains enlargements not to be found in either of the others. It is given with some corrections, from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland.
[Jamieson prints a version of this ballad which was taken down from the recitation of Mrs. W. Arrot of Aberbrothick, and is entitledSweet Willie and Fair Annie. He contends that it is "pure and entire," and expresses his opinion that the text of Percy's copy had been "adjusted" previous to its leaving Scotland.]
[Jamieson prints a version of this ballad which was taken down from the recitation of Mrs. W. Arrot of Aberbrothick, and is entitledSweet Willie and Fair Annie. He contends that it is "pure and entire," and expresses his opinion that the text of Percy's copy had been "adjusted" previous to its leaving Scotland.]
Lord Thomas and fair AnnetSate a' day on a hill;Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,They had not talkt their fill.Lord Thomas said a word in jest,5Fair Annet took it ill:A'! I will nevir wed a wifeAgainst my ain friends will.Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,A wife wull neir wed yee.10Sae he is hame to tell his mither,And knelt upon his knee:O rede, O rede, mither, he says,A gude rede gie to mee:O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,15And let faire Annet bee?The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,Fair Annet she has gat nane;And the little beauty fair Annet has,O it wull soon be gane!20And he has till his brother gane:Now, brother, rede ye mee;A' sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,And let fair Annet bee?The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,The nut-browne bride has kye;I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,And cast fair Annet bye.Her oxen may dye i' the house, Billìe,And her kye into the byre;30And I sall hae nothing to my sell,Bot a fat fadge[423]by the fyre.And he has till his sister gane:Now, sister, rede ye mee;O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,35And set fair Annet free?Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,And let the browne bride alane;Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!What is this we brought hame?40No, I will tak my mithers counsel,And marrie me owt o' hand;And I will tak the nut-browne bride;Fair Annet may leive the land.Up then rose fair Annets father45Twa hours or it wer day,And he is gane into the bower,Wherein fair Annet lay.Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,Put on your silken sheene;50Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,And see that rich weddeen.My maides, gae to my dressing roome,And dress to me my hair;Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,See yee lay ten times mair.My maids, gae to my dressing room,And dress to me my smock;The one half is o' the holland fine,The other o' needle-work.60The horse fair Annet rade upon,He amblit like the wind,Wi' siller he was shod before,Wi' burning gowd behind.Four and twanty siller bells65Wer a' tyed till his mane,And yae tift[424]o' the norland wind,They tinkled ane by ane.Four and twanty gay gude knichtsRade by the fair Annets side,70And four and twanty fair ladies,As gin she had bin a bride.And whan she cam to Maries kirk,She sat on Maries stean:The cleading that fair Annet had on75It skinkled in their een.And whan she cam into the kirk,She shimmer'd like the sun;The belt that was about her waist,Was a' wi' pearles bedone.80She sat her by the nut-browne bride,And her een they wer sae clear,Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,Whan fair Annet she drew near.He had a rose into his hand,95And he gave it kisses three,And reaching by the nut-browne bride,Laid it on fair Annets kneeUp than spak the nut-browne bride,She spak wi' meikle spite;90And whair gat ye that rose-water,That does mak yee sae white?O I did get the rose-water,Whair ye wull neir get nane,For I did get that very rose-water95Into my mithers wame.The bride she drew a long bodkin,Frae out her gay head-gear,And strake fair Annet unto the heart,That word she nevir spak mair.100Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,And marvelit what mote bee:But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,A' wood-wroth[425]wexed hee.He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,105That was sae sharp and meet,And drave into the nut-browne bride,That fell deid at his feit.Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed,Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;110Then strake the dagger untill his heart,And fell deid by her side.Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',Fair Annet within the quiere;And o' the tane thair grew a birk,115The other a bonny briere.And ay they grew, and ay they threw,As they wad faine be neare;And by this ye may ken right weil,They ware twa luvers deare.120
Lord Thomas and fair AnnetSate a' day on a hill;Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,They had not talkt their fill.
Lord Thomas said a word in jest,5Fair Annet took it ill:A'! I will nevir wed a wifeAgainst my ain friends will.
Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,A wife wull neir wed yee.10Sae he is hame to tell his mither,And knelt upon his knee:
O rede, O rede, mither, he says,A gude rede gie to mee:O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,15And let faire Annet bee?
The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,Fair Annet she has gat nane;And the little beauty fair Annet has,O it wull soon be gane!20
And he has till his brother gane:Now, brother, rede ye mee;A' sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,And let fair Annet bee?
The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,The nut-browne bride has kye;I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,And cast fair Annet bye.
Her oxen may dye i' the house, Billìe,And her kye into the byre;30And I sall hae nothing to my sell,Bot a fat fadge[423]by the fyre.
And he has till his sister gane:Now, sister, rede ye mee;O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,35And set fair Annet free?
Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,And let the browne bride alane;Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!What is this we brought hame?40
No, I will tak my mithers counsel,And marrie me owt o' hand;And I will tak the nut-browne bride;Fair Annet may leive the land.
Up then rose fair Annets father45Twa hours or it wer day,And he is gane into the bower,Wherein fair Annet lay.
Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,Put on your silken sheene;50Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,And see that rich weddeen.
My maides, gae to my dressing roome,And dress to me my hair;Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,See yee lay ten times mair.
My maids, gae to my dressing room,And dress to me my smock;The one half is o' the holland fine,The other o' needle-work.60
The horse fair Annet rade upon,He amblit like the wind,Wi' siller he was shod before,Wi' burning gowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells65Wer a' tyed till his mane,And yae tift[424]o' the norland wind,They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichtsRade by the fair Annets side,70And four and twanty fair ladies,As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Maries kirk,She sat on Maries stean:The cleading that fair Annet had on75It skinkled in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,She shimmer'd like the sun;The belt that was about her waist,Was a' wi' pearles bedone.80
She sat her by the nut-browne bride,And her een they wer sae clear,Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,Whan fair Annet she drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,95And he gave it kisses three,And reaching by the nut-browne bride,Laid it on fair Annets knee
Up than spak the nut-browne bride,She spak wi' meikle spite;90And whair gat ye that rose-water,That does mak yee sae white?
O I did get the rose-water,Whair ye wull neir get nane,For I did get that very rose-water95Into my mithers wame.
The bride she drew a long bodkin,Frae out her gay head-gear,And strake fair Annet unto the heart,That word she nevir spak mair.100
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,And marvelit what mote bee:But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,A' wood-wroth[425]wexed hee.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,105That was sae sharp and meet,And drave into the nut-browne bride,That fell deid at his feit.
Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed,Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;110Then strake the dagger untill his heart,And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',Fair Annet within the quiere;And o' the tane thair grew a birk,115The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,As they wad faine be neare;And by this ye may ken right weil,They ware twa luvers deare.120
FOOTNOTES:[423][bundle of sticks.][424][gust of wind.][425][furiously enraged.]
[423][bundle of sticks.]
[423][bundle of sticks.]
[424][gust of wind.]
[424][gust of wind.]
[425][furiously enraged.]
[425][furiously enraged.]
Thislittle beautiful sonnet is reprinted from a small volume of "PoemsbyThomas Carew, Esq. one of the gentlemen of the privie-chamber, and sewer in ordinary to his majesty (Charles I.) Lond. 1640." This elegant, and almost-forgotten writer, whose poems have been deservedly revived, died in the prime of his age, in 1639.
In the original follows a third stanza; which, not being of general application, nor of equal merit, I have ventured to omit.
[Dr. Rimbault informs us that the original music was composed by Henry Lawes, and is included in hisAyres and Dialogues forone, two and three Voyces, 1653.]
[Dr. Rimbault informs us that the original music was composed by Henry Lawes, and is included in hisAyres and Dialogues forone, two and three Voyces, 1653.]
Hee, that loves a rosie cheeke,Or a corall lip admires,Or from star-like eyes doth seekeFuell to maintaine his fires,As old time makes these decay,5So his flames must waste away.But a smooth and stedfast mind,Gentle thoughts, and calme desires,Hearts with equal love combin'dKindle never-dying fires:10Where these are not I despiseLovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.* * * * *
Hee, that loves a rosie cheeke,Or a corall lip admires,Or from star-like eyes doth seekeFuell to maintaine his fires,As old time makes these decay,5So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and stedfast mind,Gentle thoughts, and calme desires,Hearts with equal love combin'dKindle never-dying fires:10Where these are not I despiseLovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.* * * * *
Thesubject of this ballad is sufficiently popular from the modern play which is founded upon it. This was written byGeorge Lillo, a jeweller of London, and first acted about 1730.—As for the ballad it was printed at least as early as the middle of the last century.
It is here given from three old printed copies, which exhibit a strange intermixture of Roman and black letter. It is also collated with another copy in theAshmole Collectionat Oxford, which is thus intitled, "An excellent ballad ofGeorge Barnwell, an apprentice of London, who ... thrice robbed his master and murdered his uncle in Ludlow." The tune isThe Merchant.
This tragical narrative seems to relate a real fact; but when it happened I have not been able to discover.
[Ritson writes as follows concerning certain improvements made by Percy in the following ballad (Ancient Songs, 1829, vol. ii. p. 165, note):—"Throughout this 'second part' (except in a single instance) the metre of the first line of each stanza is in the old editions lengthened by a couple of syllables, which are, occasionally at least, a manifest interpolation. The person also is for the most part changed from the first to the third, with evident impropriety. Dr. Percy has very ingeniously restored the measure by ejecting the superfluous syllables, and given consistency to the whole by the restoration of the proper person; and as it is now highly improbable that any further ancient copy will be found, and those which exist are manifestly corrupt, it seemed justifiable to adopt the judicious emendations of this ingenious editor."Dr. Rimbault observes, "This curious tune (The Merchant) which has been quite overlooked by antiquaries, is found, together with the original ballad,The Merchant and the Fiddler's Wife, in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, vol. v. p. 77, edit. 1719."The former great popularity of the story of the wicked young prentice is shown by James Smith's parody in theRejected Addressesand Thackeray's caricature romance—George de Barnwell.]
[Ritson writes as follows concerning certain improvements made by Percy in the following ballad (Ancient Songs, 1829, vol. ii. p. 165, note):—"Throughout this 'second part' (except in a single instance) the metre of the first line of each stanza is in the old editions lengthened by a couple of syllables, which are, occasionally at least, a manifest interpolation. The person also is for the most part changed from the first to the third, with evident impropriety. Dr. Percy has very ingeniously restored the measure by ejecting the superfluous syllables, and given consistency to the whole by the restoration of the proper person; and as it is now highly improbable that any further ancient copy will be found, and those which exist are manifestly corrupt, it seemed justifiable to adopt the judicious emendations of this ingenious editor."
Dr. Rimbault observes, "This curious tune (The Merchant) which has been quite overlooked by antiquaries, is found, together with the original ballad,The Merchant and the Fiddler's Wife, in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, vol. v. p. 77, edit. 1719."
The former great popularity of the story of the wicked young prentice is shown by James Smith's parody in theRejected Addressesand Thackeray's caricature romance—George de Barnwell.]
All youths of fair EnglàndThat dwell both far and near,Regard my story that I tell,And to my song give ear.A London lad I was,5A merchant's prentice bound;My name George Barnwell; that did spendMy master many a pound.Take heed of harlots then,And their enticing trains;10For by that means I have been broughtTo hang alive in chains.As I, upon a day,Was walking through the streetAbout my master's business,15A wanton I did meet.A gallant dainty dame,And sumptuous in attire;With smiling look she greeted me,And did my name require.20Which when I had declar'd,She gave me then a kiss,And said, if I would come to her,I should have more than this.Fair mistress, then quoth I,25If I the place may know,This evening I will be with you,For I abroad must goTo gather monies in,That are my master's due:30And ere that I do home return,I'll come and visit you.Good Barnwell, then quoth she,Do thou to Shoreditch come,And ask for Mrs. Millwood's house,35Next door unto the Gun.And trust me on my truth,If thou keep touch with me,My dearest friend, as my own heartThou shall right welcome be.40Thus parted we in peace,And home I passed right;Then went abroad, and gathered in,By six o'clock at night,An hundred pound and one:45With bag under my armI went to Mrs. Millwood's house,And thought on little harm;And knocking at the door,Straightway herself came down;50Rustling in most brave attire,With hood and silken gown.Who, through her beauty bright,So gloriously did shine,That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes,55She seemed so divine.She took me by the hand,And with a modest grace,Welcome, sweet Barnwell, then quoth she,Unto this homely place.60And since I have thee foundAs good as thy word to be:A homely supper, ere we part,Thou shalt take here with me.O pardon me, quoth I,65Fair mistress, I you pray;For why, out of my master's house,So long I dare not stay.Alas, good Sir, she said,Are you so strictly ty'd,70You may not with your dearest friendOne hour or two abide?Faith, then the case is hard:If it be so, quoth she,I would I were a prentice bound,75To live along with thee:Therefore, my dearest George,List well what I shall say,And do not blame a woman much,Her fancy to bewray.80Let not affection's forceBe counted lewd desire;Nor think it not immodesty,I should thy love require.With that she turn'd aside,85And with a blushing red,A mournful motion she bewray'dBy hanging down her head.A handkerchief she had,All wrought with silk and gold:90Which she to stay her trickling tearsBefore her eyes did hold.This thing unto my sightWas wondrous rare and strange;And in my soul and inward thought95It wrought a sudden change:That I so hardy grew,To take her by the hand:Saying, Sweet mistress, why do youSo dull and pensive stand?100Call me no mistress now,But Sarah, thy true friend,Thy servant, Millwood, honouring thee,Until her life hath end.If thou wouldst here alledge,105Thou art in years a boy;So was Adonis, yet was heFair Venus' only joy.Thus I, who ne'er beforeOf woman found such grace,110But seeing now so fair a dameGive me a kind embrace,I supt with her that night,With joys that did abound;And for the same paid presently,115In money twice three pound.An hundred kisses then,For my farewel she gave;Crying, Sweet Barnwell, when shall IAgain thy company have?120O stay not hence too long,Sweet George, have me in mind.Her words bewicht my childishness,She uttered them so kind:So that I made a vow,125Next Sunday without fail,With my sweet Sarah once againTo tell some pleasant tale.When she heard me say so,The tears fell from her eye;130O George, quoth she, if thou dost fail,Thy Sarah sure will dye.Though long, yet loe! at last,The appointed day was come,That I must with my Sarah meet;135Having a mighty sumOf money in my hand,[426]Unto her house went I,Whereas my love upon her bedIn saddest sort did lye.140What ails my heart's delight,My Sarah dear? quoth I;Let not my love lament and grieve,Nor sighing pine, and die.But tell me, dearest friend,145What may thy woes amend,And thou shalt lack no means of help,Though forty pound I spend.With that she turn'd her head,And sickly thus did say,150Oh me, sweet George, my grief is great,Ten pound I have to payUnto a cruel wretch;And God he knows, quoth she,I have it not. Tush, rise, I said,155And take it here of me.Ten pounds, nor ten times ten,Shall make my love decay.Then from my bag into her lap,I cast ten pound straightway.160All blithe and pleasant then,To banqueting we go;She proffered me to lye with her,And said it should be so.And after that same time,165I gave her store of coyn,Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once;All which I did purloyn.And thus I did pass on;Until my master then170Did call to have his reckoning inCast up among his men.The which when as I heard,I knew not what to say:For well I knew that I was out175Two hundred pound that day.Then from my master straightI ran in secret sort;And unto Sarah Millwood thereMy case I did report.180"But how she us'd this youth,In this his care and woe,And all a strumpet's wiley ways,TheSECOND PARTmay showe."
All youths of fair EnglàndThat dwell both far and near,Regard my story that I tell,And to my song give ear.
A London lad I was,5A merchant's prentice bound;My name George Barnwell; that did spendMy master many a pound.
Take heed of harlots then,And their enticing trains;10For by that means I have been broughtTo hang alive in chains.
As I, upon a day,Was walking through the streetAbout my master's business,15A wanton I did meet.
A gallant dainty dame,And sumptuous in attire;With smiling look she greeted me,And did my name require.20
Which when I had declar'd,She gave me then a kiss,And said, if I would come to her,I should have more than this.
Fair mistress, then quoth I,25If I the place may know,This evening I will be with you,For I abroad must go
To gather monies in,That are my master's due:30And ere that I do home return,I'll come and visit you.
Good Barnwell, then quoth she,Do thou to Shoreditch come,And ask for Mrs. Millwood's house,35Next door unto the Gun.
And trust me on my truth,If thou keep touch with me,My dearest friend, as my own heartThou shall right welcome be.40
Thus parted we in peace,And home I passed right;Then went abroad, and gathered in,By six o'clock at night,
An hundred pound and one:45With bag under my armI went to Mrs. Millwood's house,And thought on little harm;
And knocking at the door,Straightway herself came down;50Rustling in most brave attire,With hood and silken gown.
Who, through her beauty bright,So gloriously did shine,That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes,55She seemed so divine.
She took me by the hand,And with a modest grace,Welcome, sweet Barnwell, then quoth she,Unto this homely place.60
And since I have thee foundAs good as thy word to be:A homely supper, ere we part,Thou shalt take here with me.
O pardon me, quoth I,65Fair mistress, I you pray;For why, out of my master's house,So long I dare not stay.
Alas, good Sir, she said,Are you so strictly ty'd,70You may not with your dearest friendOne hour or two abide?
Faith, then the case is hard:If it be so, quoth she,I would I were a prentice bound,75To live along with thee:
Therefore, my dearest George,List well what I shall say,And do not blame a woman much,Her fancy to bewray.80
Let not affection's forceBe counted lewd desire;Nor think it not immodesty,I should thy love require.
With that she turn'd aside,85And with a blushing red,A mournful motion she bewray'dBy hanging down her head.
A handkerchief she had,All wrought with silk and gold:90Which she to stay her trickling tearsBefore her eyes did hold.
This thing unto my sightWas wondrous rare and strange;And in my soul and inward thought95It wrought a sudden change:
That I so hardy grew,To take her by the hand:Saying, Sweet mistress, why do youSo dull and pensive stand?100
Call me no mistress now,But Sarah, thy true friend,Thy servant, Millwood, honouring thee,Until her life hath end.
If thou wouldst here alledge,105Thou art in years a boy;So was Adonis, yet was heFair Venus' only joy.
Thus I, who ne'er beforeOf woman found such grace,110But seeing now so fair a dameGive me a kind embrace,
I supt with her that night,With joys that did abound;And for the same paid presently,115In money twice three pound.
An hundred kisses then,For my farewel she gave;Crying, Sweet Barnwell, when shall IAgain thy company have?120
O stay not hence too long,Sweet George, have me in mind.Her words bewicht my childishness,She uttered them so kind:
So that I made a vow,125Next Sunday without fail,With my sweet Sarah once againTo tell some pleasant tale.
When she heard me say so,The tears fell from her eye;130O George, quoth she, if thou dost fail,Thy Sarah sure will dye.
Though long, yet loe! at last,The appointed day was come,That I must with my Sarah meet;135Having a mighty sum
Of money in my hand,[426]Unto her house went I,Whereas my love upon her bedIn saddest sort did lye.140
What ails my heart's delight,My Sarah dear? quoth I;Let not my love lament and grieve,Nor sighing pine, and die.
But tell me, dearest friend,145What may thy woes amend,And thou shalt lack no means of help,Though forty pound I spend.
With that she turn'd her head,And sickly thus did say,150Oh me, sweet George, my grief is great,Ten pound I have to pay
Unto a cruel wretch;And God he knows, quoth she,I have it not. Tush, rise, I said,155And take it here of me.
Ten pounds, nor ten times ten,Shall make my love decay.Then from my bag into her lap,I cast ten pound straightway.160
All blithe and pleasant then,To banqueting we go;She proffered me to lye with her,And said it should be so.
And after that same time,165I gave her store of coyn,Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once;All which I did purloyn.
And thus I did pass on;Until my master then170Did call to have his reckoning inCast up among his men.
The which when as I heard,I knew not what to say:For well I knew that I was out175Two hundred pound that day.
Then from my master straightI ran in secret sort;And unto Sarah Millwood thereMy case I did report.180
"But how she us'd this youth,In this his care and woe,And all a strumpet's wiley ways,TheSECOND PARTmay showe."
Young Barnwell comes to thee,Sweet Sarah, my delight;I am undone unless thou standMy faithful friend this night.Our master to accompts,5Hath just occasion found;And I am caught behind the hand,Above two hundred pound:And now his wrath to 'scape,My love, I fly to thee,10Hoping some time I may remaineIn safety here with thee.With that she knit her brows,And looking all aquoy,[427]Quoth she, What should I have to do15With any prentice boy?And seeing you have purloyn'dYour master's goods away,The case is bad, and therefore hereYou shall no longer stay.20Why, dear, thou knowst, I said,How all which I could get,I gave it, and did spend it allUpon thee every whit.Quoth she, Thou art a knave,25To charge me in this sort,Being a woman of credit fair,And known of good report:Therefore I tell thee flat,Be packing with good speed;30I do defie thee from my heart,And scorn thy filthy deed.Is this the friendship, thatYou did to me protest?Is this the great affection, which35You so to me exprest?Now fie on subtle shrews!The best is, I may speedTo get a lodging any where,For money in my need.40False woman, now farewell,Whilst twenty pound doth last,My anchor in some other havenWith freedom I will cast.When she perceiv'd by this,45I had store of money there:Stay, George, quoth she, thou art too quick:Why, man, I did but jeer:Dost think for all my speech,That I would let thee go?50Faith no, said she, my love to theeI wiss is more than so.You scorne a prentice boy,I heard you just now swear,Wherefore I will not trouble you.——55——Nay, George, hark in thine ear;Thou shalt not go to-night,What chance so e're befall:But man we'll have a bed for thee,O else the devil take all.60So I by wiles bewitcht,And snar'd with fancy still,Had then no power to 'get' away,Or to withstand her will.For wine on wine I call'd,65And cheer upon good cheer;And nothing in the world I thoughtFor Sarah's love too dear.Whilst in her company,I had such merriment;70All, all too little I did think,That I upon her spent.A fig for care and thought!When all my gold is gone,In faith, my girl, we will have more,75Whoever I light upon.My father's rich, why thenShould I want store of gold?Nay with a father sure, quoth she,A son may well make bold.80I've a sister richly wed,I'll rob her ere I'll want.Nay, then quoth Sarah, they may wellConsider of your scant.Nay, I an uncle have;85At Ludlow he doth dwell:He is a grazier, which in wealthDoth all the rest excell.Ere I will live in lack,And have no coyn for thee:90I'll rob his house, and murder him,Why should you not? quoth she:Was I a man, ere IWould live in poor estate;On father, friends, and all my kin,95I would my talons grate.For without money, George,A man is but a beast:But bringing money, thou shalt beAlways my welcome guest.100For shouldst thou be pursuedWith twenty hues and cryes,And with a warrant searched forWith Argus' hundred eyes,Yet here thou shalt be safe;105Such privy ways there be,That if they sought an hundred years,They could not find out thee.And so carousing bothTheir pleasures to content:110George Barnwell had in little spaceHis money wholly spent.Which done, to Ludlow straightHe did provide to go,To rob his wealthy uncle there;115His minion would it so.And once he thought to takeHis father by the way,But that he fear'd his master hadTook order for his stay[428].120Unto his uncle thenHe rode with might and main,Who with a welcome and good cheer,Did Barnwell entertain.One fortnight's space he stayed,125Until it chanced so,His uncle with his cattle didUnto a market go.His kinsman rode with him,Where he did see right plain,130Great store of money he had took:When coming home again,Sudden within a wood,He struck his uncle down,And beat his brains out of his head;135So sore he crackt his crown.Then seizing fourscore pound,To London straight he hyed,And unto Sarah Millwood allThe cruell fact descryed.140Tush,'tis no matter, George,So we the money haveTo have good cheer in jolly sort,And deck us fine and brave.Thus lived in filthy sort,145Until their store was gone:When means to get them any more,I wis, poor George, had none.Therefore in railing sort,She thrust him out of door:150Which is the just reward of those,Who spend upon a whore.O! do me not disgraceIn this my need, quoth heShe call'd him thief and murderer,155With all the spight might be:To the constable she sent,To have him apprehended;And shewed how far, in each degree,He had the laws offended.160When Barnwell saw her drift,To sea he got straightway;Where fear and sting of conscienceContinually on him lay.Unto the lord mayor then,165He did a letter write;In which his own and Sarah's faultHe did at large recite.Whereby she seized was,And then to Ludlow sent:170Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang'd,For murder incontinent.There dyed this gallant quean,Such was her greatest gains:For murder in Polonia,175Was Barnwell hang'd in chains.Lo! here's the end of youth,That after harlots haunt;Who in the spoil of other men,About the streets do flaunt.180
Young Barnwell comes to thee,Sweet Sarah, my delight;I am undone unless thou standMy faithful friend this night.
Our master to accompts,5Hath just occasion found;And I am caught behind the hand,Above two hundred pound:
And now his wrath to 'scape,My love, I fly to thee,10Hoping some time I may remaineIn safety here with thee.
With that she knit her brows,And looking all aquoy,[427]Quoth she, What should I have to do15With any prentice boy?
And seeing you have purloyn'dYour master's goods away,The case is bad, and therefore hereYou shall no longer stay.20
Why, dear, thou knowst, I said,How all which I could get,I gave it, and did spend it allUpon thee every whit.
Quoth she, Thou art a knave,25To charge me in this sort,Being a woman of credit fair,And known of good report:
Therefore I tell thee flat,Be packing with good speed;30I do defie thee from my heart,And scorn thy filthy deed.
Is this the friendship, thatYou did to me protest?Is this the great affection, which35You so to me exprest?
Now fie on subtle shrews!The best is, I may speedTo get a lodging any where,For money in my need.40
False woman, now farewell,Whilst twenty pound doth last,My anchor in some other havenWith freedom I will cast.
When she perceiv'd by this,45I had store of money there:Stay, George, quoth she, thou art too quick:Why, man, I did but jeer:
Dost think for all my speech,That I would let thee go?50Faith no, said she, my love to theeI wiss is more than so.
You scorne a prentice boy,I heard you just now swear,Wherefore I will not trouble you.——55——Nay, George, hark in thine ear;
Thou shalt not go to-night,What chance so e're befall:But man we'll have a bed for thee,O else the devil take all.60
So I by wiles bewitcht,And snar'd with fancy still,Had then no power to 'get' away,Or to withstand her will.
For wine on wine I call'd,65And cheer upon good cheer;And nothing in the world I thoughtFor Sarah's love too dear.
Whilst in her company,I had such merriment;70All, all too little I did think,That I upon her spent.
A fig for care and thought!When all my gold is gone,In faith, my girl, we will have more,75Whoever I light upon.
My father's rich, why thenShould I want store of gold?Nay with a father sure, quoth she,A son may well make bold.80
I've a sister richly wed,I'll rob her ere I'll want.Nay, then quoth Sarah, they may wellConsider of your scant.
Nay, I an uncle have;85At Ludlow he doth dwell:He is a grazier, which in wealthDoth all the rest excell.
Ere I will live in lack,And have no coyn for thee:90I'll rob his house, and murder him,Why should you not? quoth she:
Was I a man, ere IWould live in poor estate;On father, friends, and all my kin,95I would my talons grate.
For without money, George,A man is but a beast:But bringing money, thou shalt beAlways my welcome guest.100
For shouldst thou be pursuedWith twenty hues and cryes,And with a warrant searched forWith Argus' hundred eyes,
Yet here thou shalt be safe;105Such privy ways there be,That if they sought an hundred years,They could not find out thee.
And so carousing bothTheir pleasures to content:110George Barnwell had in little spaceHis money wholly spent.
Which done, to Ludlow straightHe did provide to go,To rob his wealthy uncle there;115His minion would it so.
And once he thought to takeHis father by the way,But that he fear'd his master hadTook order for his stay[428].120
Unto his uncle thenHe rode with might and main,Who with a welcome and good cheer,Did Barnwell entertain.
One fortnight's space he stayed,125Until it chanced so,His uncle with his cattle didUnto a market go.
His kinsman rode with him,Where he did see right plain,130Great store of money he had took:When coming home again,
Sudden within a wood,He struck his uncle down,And beat his brains out of his head;135So sore he crackt his crown.
Then seizing fourscore pound,To London straight he hyed,And unto Sarah Millwood allThe cruell fact descryed.140
Tush,'tis no matter, George,So we the money haveTo have good cheer in jolly sort,And deck us fine and brave.
Thus lived in filthy sort,145Until their store was gone:When means to get them any more,I wis, poor George, had none.
Therefore in railing sort,She thrust him out of door:150Which is the just reward of those,Who spend upon a whore.
O! do me not disgraceIn this my need, quoth heShe call'd him thief and murderer,155With all the spight might be:
To the constable she sent,To have him apprehended;And shewed how far, in each degree,He had the laws offended.160
When Barnwell saw her drift,To sea he got straightway;Where fear and sting of conscienceContinually on him lay.
Unto the lord mayor then,165He did a letter write;In which his own and Sarah's faultHe did at large recite.
Whereby she seized was,And then to Ludlow sent:170Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang'd,For murder incontinent.
There dyed this gallant quean,Such was her greatest gains:For murder in Polonia,175Was Barnwell hang'd in chains.
Lo! here's the end of youth,That after harlots haunt;Who in the spoil of other men,About the streets do flaunt.180