FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[1290]jow = beat, toll.

[1290]jow = beat, toll.

IThe gardener stands in his bower-door,With a primrose in his hand,And by there came a leal[1291]maidenAs jimp[1292]as a willow wand.II‘O lady, can you fancy me,For to be my bride?Ye’se get a’ the flowers in my gardenTo be to you a weed[1293].III‘The lily white sall be your smockBecomes your body best;Your head sall be busk’d wi’ gillyflowerAnd the primrose in your breast.IV‘Your gown sall be the sweet-william,Your coat the camovine[1294],Your apron a’ the salluds neatThat taste baith sweet and fine.V‘Your stockings sall be o’ the braid kail-blade,That is baith braid and lang;And narrow, narrow at the cute[1295],And braid, braid at the brawn[1296].VI‘Your gloves sall be the marigold,All glittering to your hand,Well spread o’er wi’ the blue blaewort[1297]That grows amang corn-land.’—VII‘O fare ye well, young man,’ she says,‘Farewell, and I bid adieu;If you can fancy me,’ she says,‘O I cannot fancy you.VIII‘Sin ye’ve provided a weed for meAmang the summer flowers,Then I’se provide anither for youAmang the winter showers.—IX‘The new-fa’n snaw to be your smockBecomes your body best;An’ your head sall be wound wi’ the eastern wind,An’ the cauld rain on your breast.’

The gardener stands in his bower-door,With a primrose in his hand,And by there came a leal[1291]maidenAs jimp[1292]as a willow wand.

‘O lady, can you fancy me,For to be my bride?Ye’se get a’ the flowers in my gardenTo be to you a weed[1293].

‘The lily white sall be your smockBecomes your body best;Your head sall be busk’d wi’ gillyflowerAnd the primrose in your breast.

‘Your gown sall be the sweet-william,Your coat the camovine[1294],Your apron a’ the salluds neatThat taste baith sweet and fine.

‘Your stockings sall be o’ the braid kail-blade,That is baith braid and lang;And narrow, narrow at the cute[1295],And braid, braid at the brawn[1296].

‘Your gloves sall be the marigold,All glittering to your hand,Well spread o’er wi’ the blue blaewort[1297]That grows amang corn-land.’—

‘O fare ye well, young man,’ she says,‘Farewell, and I bid adieu;If you can fancy me,’ she says,‘O I cannot fancy you.

‘Sin ye’ve provided a weed for meAmang the summer flowers,Then I’se provide anither for youAmang the winter showers.—

‘The new-fa’n snaw to be your smockBecomes your body best;An’ your head sall be wound wi’ the eastern wind,An’ the cauld rain on your breast.’

FOOTNOTES:[1291]leal = true.[1292]jimp = slender.[1293]weed = clothing.[1294]camovine = camomile.[1295]cute = ankle.[1296]brawn = calf.[1297]blaewort = corn bluebottle.

[1291]leal = true.

[1292]jimp = slender.

[1293]weed = clothing.

[1294]camovine = camomile.

[1295]cute = ankle.

[1296]brawn = calf.

[1297]blaewort = corn bluebottle.

I‘My love has built a bonny ship, and set her on the sea,With seven score good mariners to bear her companỳ;There’s three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea,And the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d[1298]my love and me.II‘My love he built another ship, and set her on the main,And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame;But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout,My love then and his bonny ship turn’d withershins[1299]about.III‘Then shall neither coif come on my head nor comb come in my hair;Then shall neither coal nor candle-light shine in my bower mair;Nor will I love another one until the day I die,Sin’ the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d my love and me.’—IV‘O haud your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content;There are mair lads in Galloway, ye neen nae sair lament.’—‘O there is none in Gallow, there’s none at a’ for me,For I never loved a love but one, and he’s drown’d in the sea.’

‘My love has built a bonny ship, and set her on the sea,With seven score good mariners to bear her companỳ;There’s three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea,And the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d[1298]my love and me.

‘My love he built another ship, and set her on the main,And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame;But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout,My love then and his bonny ship turn’d withershins[1299]about.

‘Then shall neither coif come on my head nor comb come in my hair;Then shall neither coal nor candle-light shine in my bower mair;Nor will I love another one until the day I die,Sin’ the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d my love and me.’—

‘O haud your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content;There are mair lads in Galloway, ye neen nae sair lament.’—‘O there is none in Gallow, there’s none at a’ for me,For I never loved a love but one, and he’s drown’d in the sea.’

FOOTNOTES:[1298]twin’d = parted.[1299]withershins = around against the sun.

[1298]twin’d = parted.

[1299]withershins = around against the sun.

IWill you hear a Spanish ladyHow she woo’d an English man?Garments gay and rich as may be,Decked with jewels, she had on;Of a comely countenance and grace was she,And by birth and parentage of high degree.IIAs his prisoner there he kept her,In his hands her life did lie;Cupid’s bands did tie her faster,By the liking of an eye;In his courteous company was all her joy,To favour him in any thing she was not coy.IIIAt the last there came commandmentFor to set the ladies free,With their jewels still adornèd,None to do them injury:‘Alas!’ then said this lady gay, ‘full woe is me;O let me still sustain this kind captivity!IV‘Gallant captain, show some pityTo a lady in distress;Leave me not within this city,For to die in heaviness;Thou hast set this present day my body free,But my heart in prison strong remains with thee.’—V‘How should’st thou, fair lady, love me,Whom thou know’st thy country’s foe?Thy fair words make me suspect thee;Serpents lie where flowers grow.’—‘All the harm I think to thee, most gracious knight,God grant unto myself the same may fully light:VI‘Blessèd be the time and seasonThat you came on Spanish ground;If our foes you may be termèd,Gentle foes we have you found.With our city you have won our hearts each one;Then to your country bear away that is your own.’—VII‘Rest you still, most gallant lady,Rest you still, and weep no more;Of fair lovers there are plenty;Spain doth yield a wondrous store.’—‘Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.VIII‘Leave me not unto a Spaniard;You alone enjoy my heart;I am lovely, young, and tender,And so love is my desart.Still to serve thee day and night my mind is press’d;The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.’—IX‘It would be a shame, fair lady,For to bear a woman hence;English soldiers never carryAny such without offence.’—‘I will quickly change myself if it be so,And like a page I’ll follow thee where’er thou go.’—X‘I have neither gold nor silverTo maintain thee in this case,And to travel, ’tis great charges,As you know, in every place.’—‘My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own,And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.’—XI‘On the seas are many dangers;Many storms do there arise,Which will be to ladies dreadful,And force tears from watery eyes.’—‘Well in truth I shall endure extremity,For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.’—XII‘Courteous lady, leave this fancy;Here comes all that bleeds the strife;I in England have alreadyA sweet woman to my wife:I will not falsify my vow for gold or gain,Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.’—XIII‘Oh how happy is that woman,That enjoys so true a friend!Many happy days God send you!Of my suit I’ll make an end:On my knees I pardon crave for this offence,Which did from love and true affection first commence.XIV‘Commend me to thy loving lady:Bear to her this chain of gold,And these bracelets for a token;Grieving that I was so bold.All my jewels in like sort bear thou with thee,For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.XV‘I will spend my days in prayer,Love and all his laws defy,In a nunnery will I shroud me,Far from any company:But ere my prayers have end, be sure of this,To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.XVI‘Thus farewell, most gentle captain,Farewell too my heart’s content!Count not Spanish ladies wayward,Though to thee my love was bent:Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!’—‘The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladỳ!’

Will you hear a Spanish ladyHow she woo’d an English man?Garments gay and rich as may be,Decked with jewels, she had on;Of a comely countenance and grace was she,And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her,In his hands her life did lie;Cupid’s bands did tie her faster,By the liking of an eye;In his courteous company was all her joy,To favour him in any thing she was not coy.

At the last there came commandmentFor to set the ladies free,With their jewels still adornèd,None to do them injury:‘Alas!’ then said this lady gay, ‘full woe is me;O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

‘Gallant captain, show some pityTo a lady in distress;Leave me not within this city,For to die in heaviness;Thou hast set this present day my body free,But my heart in prison strong remains with thee.’—

‘How should’st thou, fair lady, love me,Whom thou know’st thy country’s foe?Thy fair words make me suspect thee;Serpents lie where flowers grow.’—‘All the harm I think to thee, most gracious knight,God grant unto myself the same may fully light:

‘Blessèd be the time and seasonThat you came on Spanish ground;If our foes you may be termèd,Gentle foes we have you found.With our city you have won our hearts each one;Then to your country bear away that is your own.’—

‘Rest you still, most gallant lady,Rest you still, and weep no more;Of fair lovers there are plenty;Spain doth yield a wondrous store.’—‘Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.

‘Leave me not unto a Spaniard;You alone enjoy my heart;I am lovely, young, and tender,And so love is my desart.Still to serve thee day and night my mind is press’d;The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.’—

‘It would be a shame, fair lady,For to bear a woman hence;English soldiers never carryAny such without offence.’—‘I will quickly change myself if it be so,And like a page I’ll follow thee where’er thou go.’—

‘I have neither gold nor silverTo maintain thee in this case,And to travel, ’tis great charges,As you know, in every place.’—‘My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own,And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.’—

‘On the seas are many dangers;Many storms do there arise,Which will be to ladies dreadful,And force tears from watery eyes.’—‘Well in truth I shall endure extremity,For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.’—

‘Courteous lady, leave this fancy;Here comes all that bleeds the strife;I in England have alreadyA sweet woman to my wife:I will not falsify my vow for gold or gain,Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.’—

‘Oh how happy is that woman,That enjoys so true a friend!Many happy days God send you!Of my suit I’ll make an end:On my knees I pardon crave for this offence,Which did from love and true affection first commence.

‘Commend me to thy loving lady:Bear to her this chain of gold,And these bracelets for a token;Grieving that I was so bold.All my jewels in like sort bear thou with thee,For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.

‘I will spend my days in prayer,Love and all his laws defy,In a nunnery will I shroud me,Far from any company:But ere my prayers have end, be sure of this,To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.

‘Thus farewell, most gentle captain,Farewell too my heart’s content!Count not Spanish ladies wayward,Though to thee my love was bent:Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!’—‘The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladỳ!’

IThere was a youth, and a well-belovèd youth,And he was an esquire’s son,He loved the bailiff’s daughter dear,That lived in Islington.IIBut she was coy, and she would not believeThat he did love her so,No, nor at any time she wouldAny countenance to him show.IIIBut when his friends did understandHis fond and foolish mind,They sent him up to fair London,An apprentice for to bind.IVAnd when he had been seven long years,And his love he had not seen;‘Many a tear have I shed for her sakeWhen she little thought of me.’VAll the maids of IslingtonWent forth to sport and play;All but the bailiff’s daughter dear;She secretly stole away.VIShe put off her gown of gray,And put on her puggish[1300]attire;She’s up to fair London gone,Her true-love to require.VIIAs she went along the road,The weather being hot and dry,There was she aware of her true-love,At length came riding by.VIIIShe stept to him, as red as any rose,And took him by the bridle-ring:‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one pennỳ,To ease my weary limb.’—IX‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhere that thou wast born?’—‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she,‘Where I have had many a scorn.’—X‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhether thou dost knowThe bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’—‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’—XI‘Then will I sell my goodly steed,My saddle and my bow;I will into some far countrey,Where no man doth me know.’—XII‘Oh stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!She’s alive, she is not dead;Here she standeth by thy side,And is ready to be thy bride.’—XIII‘O farewell grief, and welcome joy,Ten thousand times and o’er!For now I have seen my own true-love,That I thought I should have seen no more.’

There was a youth, and a well-belovèd youth,And he was an esquire’s son,He loved the bailiff’s daughter dear,That lived in Islington.

But she was coy, and she would not believeThat he did love her so,No, nor at any time she wouldAny countenance to him show.

But when his friends did understandHis fond and foolish mind,They sent him up to fair London,An apprentice for to bind.

And when he had been seven long years,And his love he had not seen;‘Many a tear have I shed for her sakeWhen she little thought of me.’

All the maids of IslingtonWent forth to sport and play;All but the bailiff’s daughter dear;She secretly stole away.

She put off her gown of gray,And put on her puggish[1300]attire;She’s up to fair London gone,Her true-love to require.

As she went along the road,The weather being hot and dry,There was she aware of her true-love,At length came riding by.

She stept to him, as red as any rose,And took him by the bridle-ring:‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one pennỳ,To ease my weary limb.’—

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhere that thou wast born?’—‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she,‘Where I have had many a scorn.’—

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhether thou dost knowThe bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’—‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’—

‘Then will I sell my goodly steed,My saddle and my bow;I will into some far countrey,Where no man doth me know.’—

‘Oh stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!She’s alive, she is not dead;Here she standeth by thy side,And is ready to be thy bride.’—

‘O farewell grief, and welcome joy,Ten thousand times and o’er!For now I have seen my own true-love,That I thought I should have seen no more.’

FOOTNOTES:[1300]puggish = tramp’s.

[1300]puggish = tramp’s.

IIt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright;And many a gallant brave suitor had she,For none was so comely as pretty Bessee.IIAnd though she was of favour most faire,Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar’s heyre.Of ancyent housekeepers despisèd was she,Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.IIIWherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say,‘Good father, and mother, let me go awayTo seek out my fortune, whatever it be.’This suit then they granted to pretty Bessee.IVThen Bessy, that was of beauty so bright,All clad in grey russet, and late in the night,From father and mother alone parted she;Who sighèd and sobbèd for pretty Bessee.VShe went till she came to Stratford-le-Bow;Then knew she not whither, nor which way to go:With tears she lamented her hard destinìe,So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.VIShe kept on her journey until it was day,She went unto Rumford along the high way;Where at the Queen’s Arms entertainèd was she:So fair and well favoured was pretty Bessee.VIIShe had not been there a month to an end,But master and mistress and all was her friend:And every brave gallant, that once did her see,Was straightway enamour’d of pretty Bessee.VIIIGreat gifts they did send her of silver and gold,And in their songs daily her love was extoll’d;Her beauty was blazèd in every degree;So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.IXThe young men of Rumford in her had their joy;She showed herself courteous, and modestly coy;And at her commandèment still would they be;So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.XFour suitors at once unto her did go;They cravèd her favour, but still she said ‘no;I would not wish gentles to marry with me.’—Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.XIThe first of them was a gallant young knight,And he came unto her disguised in the night:The second a gentleman of good degree,Who wooèd and suèd for pretty Bessee.XIIA merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,He was the third suitor, and proper withal:Her master’s own son the fourth man must be,Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.XIII‘And, if thou wilt marry with me,’ quoth the knight,‘I’ll make thee a lady with joy and delight;My heart so enthrallèd is by thy beautìe,That soon I shall die for pretty Bessee.’XIVThe gentleman said, ‘Come, marry with me,As fine as a lady my Bessy shall be:My life is distressèd: O hear me,’ quoth he;‘And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessee.’—XV‘Let me be thy husband,’ the merchant did say,‘Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.’XVIThen Bessy she sighed, and thus she did say,‘My father and mother I mean to obey;First get their good will, and be faithful to me,And then you shall marry your pretty Bessee.’XVIITo every one this answer she made,Wherefore unto her they joyfully said,‘This thing to fulfil we all do agree;But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?’XVIII‘My father,’ she said, ‘is soon to be seen:The silly blind beggar of Bednall-green,That daily sits begging for charitìe,He is the good father of pretty Bessee.XIX‘His marks and his tokens are known very well;He always is led with a dog and a bell:A silly old man, God knoweth, is he,Yet he is the father of pretty Bessee.’XX‘Nay then,’ quoth the merchant, ‘thou art not for me!’‘Nor,’ quoth the innholder, ‘my wife thou shalt be.’‘I lothe,’ said the gentle, ‘a beggar’s degree,And therefore adieu, my pretty Bessee!’XXI‘Why then,’ quoth the knight, ‘hap better or worse,I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,And beauty is beauty in every degree;Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee.XXII‘With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.’—‘Nay soft,’ quoth his kinsmen, ‘it must not be so;A poor beggar’s daughter no lady shall be,Then take thy adieu of pretty Bessee.’XXIIIBut soon after this, by break of the dayThe Knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.The young men of Rumford, as thick as might be,Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.XXIVAs swift as the wind to ryde they were seen,Until they came near unto Bednall-green;And as the Knight lighted most courteouslìe,They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.XXVBut rescue came speedily over the plain,Or else the young Knight for his love had been slain.This fray being ended, then straightway he seeHis kinsmen come railing at pretty Bessee.XXVIThen spake the blind beggar, ‘Although I be poor,Yet rail not against my child at my own door:Though she be not deckèd in velvet and pearl,Yet will I drop angels with you for my girl.XXVII‘And then, if my gold may better her birth,And equal the gold that you lay on the earth,Then neither rail nor grudge you to seeThe blind beggar’s daughter a lady to be.XXVIII‘But first you shall promise, and have it well known,The gold that you dropt shall all be your own.’With that they replied, ‘Contented be we.’‘Then here’s,’ quoth the beggar, ‘for pretty Bessee!’XXIXWith that an angel he cast on the ground,And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;And oftentimes it was provèd most plain,For the gentlemen’s one the beggar dropt twain:XXXSo that the place, wherein they did sit,With gold it was coverèd every whit.The gentlemen then, having dropt all their store,Said, ‘Now, beggar, hold, for we have no more,XXXI‘Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright.’—‘Then marry,’ quoth he, ‘my girl to this Knight;And here,’ added he, ‘I will now throw you downA hundred pounds more to buy her a gown.’XXXIIThe gentlemen all, that this treasure had seen,Admirèd the beggar of Bednall-green:And all those, that were her suitors before,Their flesh for very anger they tore.XXXIIIThus was fair Bessy match’d to the Knight,And then made a lady in others’ despite:A fairer lady there never was seenThan the blind beggar’s daughter of Bednall-green.XXXIVBut of their sumptuous marriage and feast,What brave lords and knights thither were prest,The second fitt shall set forth to your sightWith marvellous pleasure and wished delight.PartIIXXXVOf a blind beggar’s daughter most bright,That late was betrothed unto a young Knight;All the discourse thereof you did see:But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.XXXVIWithin a gorgeous palace most brave,Adornèd with all the cost they could have,This wedding was kept most sumptuouslìe,And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.XXXVIIAll kind of dainties and delicates sweetWere bought for the banquet, as it was most meet;Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.XXXVIIIThis marriage through England was spread by report,So that a great number thereto did resortOf nobles and gentles in every degree;And all for the fame of pretty Bessee.XXXIXTo church then went this gallant young Knight;His bride followed after, an angel most bright,With troops of ladies—the like ne’er was seenAs went with sweet Bessy of Bednall-green.XLThis marriage being solemnized then,With musick performed by the skilfullest men,The nobles and gentles sat down at that tide,Each one admiring the beautiful bride.XLINow, after the sumptuous dinner was done,To talk and to reason a number begun:They talk’d of the blind beggar’s daughter most bright,And what with his daughter he gave to the Knight.XLIIThen spake the nobles, ‘Much marvel have we,This jolly blind beggar we cannot here see.’‘My lords,’ quoth the bride, ‘my father’s so base,He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.’—XLIII‘The praise of a woman in question to bring,Before her own face, were a flattering thing,But we think thy father’s baseness,’ quoth they,‘Might by thy beauty be clean put away.’XLIVThey had no sooner these pleasant words spoke,But in comes the beggar clad in a silk cloak;A fair velvet cap, and a feather had he,And now a musician forsooth he would be.XLVHe had a dainty lute under his arm,He touchèd the strings, which made such a charm,Says, ‘Please you to hear any musick of me,I’ll sing you a song of pretty Bessee.’XLVIWith that his lute he twangèd straightway,And thereon began most sweetly to play;And after that lessons were played two or three,He strain’d out this song most delicatelìe.XLVII‘A poor beggar’s daughter did dwell on a green,Who for her fairness might well be a queen:A blithe bonny lass, and a dainty was she,And many one callèd her pretty Bessee.XLVIII‘Her father he had no goods, nor no land,But begg’d for a penny all day with his hand;And yet to her marriage he gave thousands three,And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.XLIX‘And if any one here her birth do disdain,Her father is ready, with might and with main,To prove she is come of noble degree:Therefore never flout at pretty Bessee.’LWith that the lords and the company roundWith hearty laughter were ready to swound;At last said the lords, ‘Full well we may see,The bride and the beggar’s beholden to thee.’LIOn this the bride all blushing did rise,The pearly drops standing within her fair eyes,‘O pardon my father, grave nobles,’ quoth she,‘That through blind affection thus doteth on me.’LII‘If this be thy father,’ the nobles did say,‘Well may he be proud of this happy day;Yet by his countenance well may we see,His birth and his fortune did never agree:LIII‘And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray(And look that the truth thou to us do say)Thy birth and thy parentage, what it may be;For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.’—LIV‘Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,One song more to sing, and then I have done;And if that it may not win good report,Then do not give me a groat for my sport.LV‘Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shall be;Once chief of all the great barons was he,Yet fortune so cruel this lord did abase,Now lost and forgotten are he and his race.LVI‘When the barons in arms did King Henry oppose,Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;A leader of courage undaunted was he,And ofttimes he made their enemies flee.LVII‘At length in the battle on Evesham plain,The barons were routed, and Montfort was slain;Most fatal that battle did prove unto thee,Though thou wast not born then, my pretty Bessee!LVIII‘Along with the nobles, that fell at that tide,His eldest son Henry, who fought by his side,Was fell’d by a blow he received in the fight;A blow that deprived him for ever of sight.LIX‘Among the dead bodies all lifeless he lay,Till evening drew on of the following day;When by a young lady discovered was he;And this was thy mother, my pretty Bessee!LX‘A baron’s fair daughter stept forth in the nightTo search for her father, who fell in the fight,And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he lay,Was movèd with pity, and brought him away.LXI‘In secret she nurst him, and swagèd his pain,While he through the realm was believed to be slain:At length his fair bride she consented to be,And made him glad father of pretty Bessee.LXII‘And now, lest our foes our lives should betray,We clothèd ourselves in beggars’ array;Her jewels she sold, and hither came we:All our comfort and care was our pretty Bessee.LXIII‘And here have we livèd in fortune’s despite,Though poor, yet contented with humble delight:Full forty winters thus have I beenA silly blind beggar of Bednall-green.LXIV‘And here, noble lords, is ended the songOf one that once to your own rank did belong:And thus have you learnèd a secret from me,That ne’er had been known, but for pretty Bessee.’LXVNow when the fair company every one,Had heard the strange tale in the song he had shown,They all were amazèd, as well they might be,Both at the blind beggar, and pretty Bessee.LXVIWith that the fair bride they all did embrace,Saying, ‘Sure thou art come of an hon’rable race;Thy father likewise is of noble degree,And thou art well worthy a lady to be.’LXVIIThus was the feast ended with joy and delight,A bridegroom most happy then was the young Knight,In joy and felicitie long livèd he,All with his fair lady, the pretty Bessee.

It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright;And many a gallant brave suitor had she,For none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was of favour most faire,Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar’s heyre.Of ancyent housekeepers despisèd was she,Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say,‘Good father, and mother, let me go awayTo seek out my fortune, whatever it be.’This suit then they granted to pretty Bessee.

Then Bessy, that was of beauty so bright,All clad in grey russet, and late in the night,From father and mother alone parted she;Who sighèd and sobbèd for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came to Stratford-le-Bow;Then knew she not whither, nor which way to go:With tears she lamented her hard destinìe,So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.

She kept on her journey until it was day,She went unto Rumford along the high way;Where at the Queen’s Arms entertainèd was she:So fair and well favoured was pretty Bessee.

She had not been there a month to an end,But master and mistress and all was her friend:And every brave gallant, that once did her see,Was straightway enamour’d of pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,And in their songs daily her love was extoll’d;Her beauty was blazèd in every degree;So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;She showed herself courteous, and modestly coy;And at her commandèment still would they be;So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

Four suitors at once unto her did go;They cravèd her favour, but still she said ‘no;I would not wish gentles to marry with me.’—Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.

The first of them was a gallant young knight,And he came unto her disguised in the night:The second a gentleman of good degree,Who wooèd and suèd for pretty Bessee.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,He was the third suitor, and proper withal:Her master’s own son the fourth man must be,Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.

‘And, if thou wilt marry with me,’ quoth the knight,‘I’ll make thee a lady with joy and delight;My heart so enthrallèd is by thy beautìe,That soon I shall die for pretty Bessee.’

The gentleman said, ‘Come, marry with me,As fine as a lady my Bessy shall be:My life is distressèd: O hear me,’ quoth he;‘And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessee.’—

‘Let me be thy husband,’ the merchant did say,‘Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.’

Then Bessy she sighed, and thus she did say,‘My father and mother I mean to obey;First get their good will, and be faithful to me,And then you shall marry your pretty Bessee.’

To every one this answer she made,Wherefore unto her they joyfully said,‘This thing to fulfil we all do agree;But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?’

‘My father,’ she said, ‘is soon to be seen:The silly blind beggar of Bednall-green,That daily sits begging for charitìe,He is the good father of pretty Bessee.

‘His marks and his tokens are known very well;He always is led with a dog and a bell:A silly old man, God knoweth, is he,Yet he is the father of pretty Bessee.’

‘Nay then,’ quoth the merchant, ‘thou art not for me!’‘Nor,’ quoth the innholder, ‘my wife thou shalt be.’‘I lothe,’ said the gentle, ‘a beggar’s degree,And therefore adieu, my pretty Bessee!’

‘Why then,’ quoth the knight, ‘hap better or worse,I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,And beauty is beauty in every degree;Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee.

‘With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.’—‘Nay soft,’ quoth his kinsmen, ‘it must not be so;A poor beggar’s daughter no lady shall be,Then take thy adieu of pretty Bessee.’

But soon after this, by break of the dayThe Knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.The young men of Rumford, as thick as might be,Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.

As swift as the wind to ryde they were seen,Until they came near unto Bednall-green;And as the Knight lighted most courteouslìe,They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.

But rescue came speedily over the plain,Or else the young Knight for his love had been slain.This fray being ended, then straightway he seeHis kinsmen come railing at pretty Bessee.

Then spake the blind beggar, ‘Although I be poor,Yet rail not against my child at my own door:Though she be not deckèd in velvet and pearl,Yet will I drop angels with you for my girl.

‘And then, if my gold may better her birth,And equal the gold that you lay on the earth,Then neither rail nor grudge you to seeThe blind beggar’s daughter a lady to be.

‘But first you shall promise, and have it well known,The gold that you dropt shall all be your own.’With that they replied, ‘Contented be we.’‘Then here’s,’ quoth the beggar, ‘for pretty Bessee!’

With that an angel he cast on the ground,And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;And oftentimes it was provèd most plain,For the gentlemen’s one the beggar dropt twain:

So that the place, wherein they did sit,With gold it was coverèd every whit.The gentlemen then, having dropt all their store,Said, ‘Now, beggar, hold, for we have no more,

‘Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright.’—‘Then marry,’ quoth he, ‘my girl to this Knight;And here,’ added he, ‘I will now throw you downA hundred pounds more to buy her a gown.’

The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seen,Admirèd the beggar of Bednall-green:And all those, that were her suitors before,Their flesh for very anger they tore.

Thus was fair Bessy match’d to the Knight,And then made a lady in others’ despite:A fairer lady there never was seenThan the blind beggar’s daughter of Bednall-green.

But of their sumptuous marriage and feast,What brave lords and knights thither were prest,The second fitt shall set forth to your sightWith marvellous pleasure and wished delight.

Of a blind beggar’s daughter most bright,That late was betrothed unto a young Knight;All the discourse thereof you did see:But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.

Within a gorgeous palace most brave,Adornèd with all the cost they could have,This wedding was kept most sumptuouslìe,And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.

All kind of dainties and delicates sweetWere bought for the banquet, as it was most meet;Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.

This marriage through England was spread by report,So that a great number thereto did resortOf nobles and gentles in every degree;And all for the fame of pretty Bessee.

To church then went this gallant young Knight;His bride followed after, an angel most bright,With troops of ladies—the like ne’er was seenAs went with sweet Bessy of Bednall-green.

This marriage being solemnized then,With musick performed by the skilfullest men,The nobles and gentles sat down at that tide,Each one admiring the beautiful bride.

Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done,To talk and to reason a number begun:They talk’d of the blind beggar’s daughter most bright,And what with his daughter he gave to the Knight.

Then spake the nobles, ‘Much marvel have we,This jolly blind beggar we cannot here see.’‘My lords,’ quoth the bride, ‘my father’s so base,He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.’—

‘The praise of a woman in question to bring,Before her own face, were a flattering thing,But we think thy father’s baseness,’ quoth they,‘Might by thy beauty be clean put away.’

They had no sooner these pleasant words spoke,But in comes the beggar clad in a silk cloak;A fair velvet cap, and a feather had he,And now a musician forsooth he would be.

He had a dainty lute under his arm,He touchèd the strings, which made such a charm,Says, ‘Please you to hear any musick of me,I’ll sing you a song of pretty Bessee.’

With that his lute he twangèd straightway,And thereon began most sweetly to play;And after that lessons were played two or three,He strain’d out this song most delicatelìe.

‘A poor beggar’s daughter did dwell on a green,Who for her fairness might well be a queen:A blithe bonny lass, and a dainty was she,And many one callèd her pretty Bessee.

‘Her father he had no goods, nor no land,But begg’d for a penny all day with his hand;And yet to her marriage he gave thousands three,And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.

‘And if any one here her birth do disdain,Her father is ready, with might and with main,To prove she is come of noble degree:Therefore never flout at pretty Bessee.’

With that the lords and the company roundWith hearty laughter were ready to swound;At last said the lords, ‘Full well we may see,The bride and the beggar’s beholden to thee.’

On this the bride all blushing did rise,The pearly drops standing within her fair eyes,‘O pardon my father, grave nobles,’ quoth she,‘That through blind affection thus doteth on me.’

‘If this be thy father,’ the nobles did say,‘Well may he be proud of this happy day;Yet by his countenance well may we see,His birth and his fortune did never agree:

‘And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray(And look that the truth thou to us do say)Thy birth and thy parentage, what it may be;For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.’—

‘Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,One song more to sing, and then I have done;And if that it may not win good report,Then do not give me a groat for my sport.

‘Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shall be;Once chief of all the great barons was he,Yet fortune so cruel this lord did abase,Now lost and forgotten are he and his race.

‘When the barons in arms did King Henry oppose,Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;A leader of courage undaunted was he,And ofttimes he made their enemies flee.

‘At length in the battle on Evesham plain,The barons were routed, and Montfort was slain;Most fatal that battle did prove unto thee,Though thou wast not born then, my pretty Bessee!

‘Along with the nobles, that fell at that tide,His eldest son Henry, who fought by his side,Was fell’d by a blow he received in the fight;A blow that deprived him for ever of sight.

‘Among the dead bodies all lifeless he lay,Till evening drew on of the following day;When by a young lady discovered was he;And this was thy mother, my pretty Bessee!

‘A baron’s fair daughter stept forth in the nightTo search for her father, who fell in the fight,And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he lay,Was movèd with pity, and brought him away.

‘In secret she nurst him, and swagèd his pain,While he through the realm was believed to be slain:At length his fair bride she consented to be,And made him glad father of pretty Bessee.

‘And now, lest our foes our lives should betray,We clothèd ourselves in beggars’ array;Her jewels she sold, and hither came we:All our comfort and care was our pretty Bessee.

‘And here have we livèd in fortune’s despite,Though poor, yet contented with humble delight:Full forty winters thus have I beenA silly blind beggar of Bednall-green.

‘And here, noble lords, is ended the songOf one that once to your own rank did belong:And thus have you learnèd a secret from me,That ne’er had been known, but for pretty Bessee.’

Now when the fair company every one,Had heard the strange tale in the song he had shown,They all were amazèd, as well they might be,Both at the blind beggar, and pretty Bessee.

With that the fair bride they all did embrace,Saying, ‘Sure thou art come of an hon’rable race;Thy father likewise is of noble degree,And thou art well worthy a lady to be.’

Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight,A bridegroom most happy then was the young Knight,In joy and felicitie long livèd he,All with his fair lady, the pretty Bessee.

ILord Bateman was a noble lord,A noble lord of high degree;He shipp’d himself all aboard of a ship,Some foreign country for to see.IIHe sailèd east, he sailèd west,Until he came to famed Turkey,Where he was taken and put to prison,Until his life was quite weary.IIIAll in this prison there grew a tree,O there it grew so stout and strong!Where he was chain’d all by the middle,Until his life was almost gone.IVThis Turk he had one only daughter,The fairest my two eyes e’er see;She stole the keys of her father’s prison,And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.VO she took him to her father’s cellar,And gave to him the best of wine;And every health she drank unto himWas, ‘I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.’VI‘O have you got houses, have you got land,And does Northumberland belong to thee?And what would you give to the fair young ladyAs out of prison would let you go free?’—VII‘O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land,And half Northumberland belongs to me;And I will give it all to the fair young ladyAs out of prison would let me go free.’—VIII‘O in seven long years, I’ll make a vowFor seven long years, and keep it strong,That if you’ll wed no other woman,O I will wed no other man.’IXO she took him to her father’s harbour,And gave to him a ship of fame,Saying, ‘Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,I fear I never shall see you again!’XNow seven long years is gone and past,And fourteen days, well known to me;She packèd up all her gay clothing,And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.XIO when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle,How boldly then she rang the bell!‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cries the proud young porter,‘O come unto me pray quickly tell.’—XII‘O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle,And is his lordship here within?’—‘O yes, O yes,’ cries the proud young porter‘He’s just now taking his young bride in.’—XIII‘O bid him to send me a slice of breadAnd a bottle of the very best wine,And not forgetting the fair young ladyAs did release him when close confine.’XIVO away and away went this proud young porter,O away and away and away went he,Until he come to Lord Bateman’s chamber,When he went down on his bended knee.XV‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?What news, what news? Come tell to me.’—‘O there is the fairest young ladyAs ever my two eyes did see.XVI‘She has got rings on every finger,And on one finger she has got three;With as much gay gold about her middleAs would buy half Northumberlee.XVII‘O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,And a bottle of the very best wine,And not forgetting the fair young ladyAs did release you when close confine.’XVIIILord Bateman then in passion flew,And broke his sword in splinters three,Saying, ‘I will give half of my father’s land,If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.’XIXThen up and spoke this young bride’s mother,Who never was heard to speak so free;Saying, ‘You’ll not forget my only daughter,If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.’—XX‘O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter,But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me;She came to me with a horse and saddle,But she may go home in a coach and three.’XXILord Bateman then prepared another marriage,With both their hearts so full of glee,Saying, ‘I’ll roam no more to foreign countries,Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.’

Lord Bateman was a noble lord,A noble lord of high degree;He shipp’d himself all aboard of a ship,Some foreign country for to see.

He sailèd east, he sailèd west,Until he came to famed Turkey,Where he was taken and put to prison,Until his life was quite weary.

All in this prison there grew a tree,O there it grew so stout and strong!Where he was chain’d all by the middle,Until his life was almost gone.

This Turk he had one only daughter,The fairest my two eyes e’er see;She stole the keys of her father’s prison,And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.

O she took him to her father’s cellar,And gave to him the best of wine;And every health she drank unto himWas, ‘I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.’

‘O have you got houses, have you got land,And does Northumberland belong to thee?And what would you give to the fair young ladyAs out of prison would let you go free?’—

‘O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land,And half Northumberland belongs to me;And I will give it all to the fair young ladyAs out of prison would let me go free.’—

‘O in seven long years, I’ll make a vowFor seven long years, and keep it strong,That if you’ll wed no other woman,O I will wed no other man.’

O she took him to her father’s harbour,And gave to him a ship of fame,Saying, ‘Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,I fear I never shall see you again!’

Now seven long years is gone and past,And fourteen days, well known to me;She packèd up all her gay clothing,And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.

O when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle,How boldly then she rang the bell!‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cries the proud young porter,‘O come unto me pray quickly tell.’—

‘O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle,And is his lordship here within?’—‘O yes, O yes,’ cries the proud young porter‘He’s just now taking his young bride in.’—

‘O bid him to send me a slice of breadAnd a bottle of the very best wine,And not forgetting the fair young ladyAs did release him when close confine.’

O away and away went this proud young porter,O away and away and away went he,Until he come to Lord Bateman’s chamber,When he went down on his bended knee.

‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?What news, what news? Come tell to me.’—‘O there is the fairest young ladyAs ever my two eyes did see.

‘She has got rings on every finger,And on one finger she has got three;With as much gay gold about her middleAs would buy half Northumberlee.

‘O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,And a bottle of the very best wine,And not forgetting the fair young ladyAs did release you when close confine.’

Lord Bateman then in passion flew,And broke his sword in splinters three,Saying, ‘I will give half of my father’s land,If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.’

Then up and spoke this young bride’s mother,Who never was heard to speak so free;Saying, ‘You’ll not forget my only daughter,If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.’—

‘O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter,But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me;She came to me with a horse and saddle,But she may go home in a coach and three.’

Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,With both their hearts so full of glee,Saying, ‘I’ll roam no more to foreign countries,Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.’

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