Tufhe, fir John, quoth his wife, why fhould you frett, or
You shall n'er be att no charges for mee; [frowne?
For I will turne and trim up my old ruffet gowne, 51
With everye thing else as fine as may bee;

And on our mill-horfes fwift we will ride,
With pillowes and pannells as we shall provide.

In this most statelye fort, rode they unto the court, 55
Their jolly fonne Richard rode foremost of all;
Who fet up, by good hap, a cocks feather in his cap,
And fo they jetted downe to the kings hall;

The merry old miller with hands on his fide;
His wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide. 60

The king and his nobles, that heard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant knight with his brave traine;
Welcome, fir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady:
Good fir John Cockle, once welcome againe :

And fo is the fquire of courage foe free.
Quoth Dicke, Abots on you; do you know mee?

Quoth our king gentlye, how fhould I forget thee?
That waft my owne bed-fellow, well it I wot.

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70

Yea, fir, quoth Richard, and by the fame token,
Thou with thy farting didft make the bed hot.
Thou whore-fon unhappy knave, then quoth the knight,
Speake cleanly to our king, or elfe go fhite.

The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily,

While the king taketh them both by the hand; With ladyes and their maids, like to the queen of spades

The millers wife did foe orderly stand,
A milk-maids courtesye at every word;
And downe the folkes were set to the board:

Where the king royally, in princelye majestye,

Sate at his dinner with joy and delight;
When they had eaten well, then hee to jefting fell,
And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight:
Here's to you both, in wine, ale and beer;
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.

Quoth fir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire:
But then faid our king, now I think of a thing;
Some of your lightfoote I would we had here.
Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may fay it,
'Tis knavery to cate it, and then to betray it.

Why art thou angry? quoth our king merrilye;
In faith, I take it now very unkind :

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80

85

90

I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartily. Quoth Dicke, You are like to ftay till I have din'd: You feed us with twatling dishes foe fmall;

Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all.

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Aye,

Aye, marry, quoth our king, that were a daintye thing, Could a man get but one here for to eate. [hofe, With that Dicke ftraite arofe, and pluckt one from his Which with heat of his breech gan to fweate.

The king made a proffer to fnatch it away:· 'Tis meat for your mafter: good fir, you must stay.

Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent;
And then the ladyes prepared to dance:

Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent
Unto their paces the king did advance:
Here with the ladyes fuch sport they did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their fides ake.

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105

Many thankes for their paines did the king give them,
Afking young Richard then, if he would wed; 110
Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?
Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head:
She's my love, fhe's my life, her will I wed;
She hath fworn I fhall have her maidenhead.

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Then fir John Cockle the king call'd unto him,
And of merry Sherwood made him o'er-feer;
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye,
Now take heede you steale no more of my deer:
And once a quarter let's here have your view;
And now,
fir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.

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XXI. THE

XXI.

THE SHEPHERD's RESOLUTION.

This beautiful old fong was written by a poet, whofe name would have been utterly forgotten, if it had not been preferved by SwIFT, as a term of contempt. "DRYDEN

"and WITHER" are coupled by him like the BAVIUS and MEVIUS of Virgil. DRYDEN however has had justice done bim by pofterity: and as for WITHER, though of fubordinate merit, that he was not altogether devoid of genius, will be judged from the following flanzas. The truth is, WITHER was a very voluminous party-writer: and as his political and fatyrical ftrokes rendered him extremely popular in his life time; fo afterwards, when their date was out, they totally configned his writings to oblivion.

GEORGE WITHER was born June 11. 1588, and in his younger years diftinguished himself by fome paftoral picces, that were not inelegant; but growing afterwards involved in the political and religious difputes in the times of James I, and Charles I, he employed his poetical vein in fervere pafquils on the court and clergy, and was occafionally a fufferer for the freedom of his pen. In the civil war that enfued, he exerted himself in the fervice of the Parliament, and became a confiderable fharer in the spoils. He was even one of thofe provincial tyrants, whom Oliver diftributed over the kingdom, under the name of Major Generals; and had the fleecing of the county of Surrey: but furviving the Reftoration, he outlived both his power and his affluence; and giving vent to his chagrin in libels on

the

the court, was long a prifoner in Newgate and the Tower. He died at length on the 2d of May, 1667.

During the whole course of his life, WITHER was a continual publisher; having generally for opponent, TAYLOR the Water-poet. The long lift of his productions may be feen in Wood's Athana. Oxon. vol. 2. His most popular fatire, is intitled, "Abuses whipt and ftript. 1613. His moft poetical pieces were eclogues, intitled," The Shepherd's Hunting." 1615, 8vo. and others printed at the end of Browne's "Shepherd's Pipe." 1614. 8vo. The following fonnet is extracted from a long paftoral piece of his, intitled, "The Miftreffe of Philarete." 8vo. which is faid in the preface to be one of the Author's firft poems: and may therefore be dated as early as any of the foregoing.

HALL I, wafting in difpaire,
Dye because a woman's faire ?
Or make pale my cheeks with care,
'Cause another's rofie are?

Be fhee fairer then the day,

5

Or the flowry meads in may;

If the think not well of me,

What care I how faire fhee be?

Shall my heart be griev'd or pin'd,
Cause I fee a woman kind?

Or a well-difpofed nature
Joyned with a lovely feature?
Be fhee meeker, kinder, than
The turtle-dove or pelican:

If thee be not fo to me,
What care I how kind fhee be?