departed everie man into his owne countrey; and Morgue and Transeline tarried a certaine space with queene Escleremond in great joy and solace. Now let us leave speaking of kinge Huon: and Queene Escleremond, who tarried still in the fayrie, and shall do untill the day of judgment, and let us returne unto our former matter, and speake of faire Clariet, daughter unto king Huon, who was at the noble citie of Bourdeaux.

THIS

HIS most important, indeed the most valuable illustration we have of The Midsummer's Night's Dream, is reprinted from a black-letter tract of the utmost rarity, published at London in 1628, under the title of "Robin Goodfellow; his mad prankes, and merry Jests, full of honest mirth, and is a fit medicine for melancholy." Mr Collier made an excellent reprint of this curious production for the Percy Society, but he has kindly permitted me to include it in this collection. Mr Collier's preface, and the bibliographical particulars there mentioned, are here omitted; the latter purposely, that the members of the Percy Society might not have to complain that one of their publications had suffered in value. The earlier commentators on Shakespeare were unacquainted with it, and not more than four copies, and three of those with different dates, are known to exist. One copy is in the possession of Lord Ellesmere, another in the library of Mr Henry Heith. The earliest is dated 1628, but it is in all probability a much older production, and, although we have no proof of the fact, had most likely been seen by Shakespeare in some form or other.

The First Part.

Not omitting that antient forme of beginning tales, Once upon a time, it was my chance to travaile into that noble county of Kent. The weather beeing wet, and my two-leg'd horse being almost tyred (for indeede my owne leggs were all the supporters that my body had), I went dropping into an alehouse: there found I, first a kinde wellcome, next good lyquor, then kinde strangers (which made good company), then an honest hoast, whose love to good liquor was written in red characters both in his nose, cheekes and forehead: an hoastesse I found there too, a woman of very good carriage; and though she had not so much colour (for what she had done) as her rich husband had, yet all beholders might perceive by the roundness of her belly, that she was able to draw a pot dry at a draught, and ne're unlace for the

matter.

Well, to the fire I went, where I dryed my outside and wet my inside. The ale being good, and I in good company, I lapt in so much of this nappy liquor, that it begot in mee a boldnesse to talke, and desire of them to know what was the reason that the people of that country were called Long-tayles.1 The hoast sayd, all the reason that ever he could heare was, because the people of that country formerly did use to goe in side skirted coates. There is (sayd an old man that sat by) another reason that I have heard: that is this. In the time of the Saxon's conquest of England there were divers of our countrymen slaine by treachery, which made those that survived more

1 An old nickname for Kentishmen. Lambarde mentions it in his "Perambulation," 4to, Lond. 1576.

carefull in dealing with their enemies, as you shall heare.

After many overthrowes that our countrymen had received by the Saxons, they dispersed themselves into divers companies into the woods, and so did much damage by their suddaine assaults to the Saxons, that Hengist, their king, hearing the damage that they did (and not knowing how to subdue them by force), used this policy. Hee sent to a company of them, and gave them his word for their liberty and safe returne, if they would come unarmed and speake with him. This they seemed to grant unto, but for their more security (knowing how little hee esteemed oathes or promises) they went every one of them armed with a shorte sword, hanging just behind under their garments, so that the Saxons thought not of any weapons they had: but it proved otherwise; for when Hengist his men (that were placed to cut them off) fell all upon them, they found such unlocked a resistance, that most of the Saxons were slaine, and they that escaped, wond'ring how they could doe that hurt, having no weapons (as they saw), reported that they strucke downe men like lyons with their tayles; and so they ever after were called Kentish Longtayles.

I told him this was strange, if true, and that their countries honor bound them more to beleeve in this then it did me.

Truly, sir, sayd my hoastesse, I thinke we are called Long-tayles, by reason our tales are long, that we use to passe the time withall, and make our selves merry. Now, good hoastesse, sayd I, let me entreat from you one of those tales. You shall (sayd shee), and that shall not be a common one neither, for it is a long tale, a merry tale, and a sweete tale; and thus it beginnes.

The Hoastesse tale of the birth of Robin Goodfellow.

Once upon a time, a great while agoe, when men did eate more and drinke lesse,—then men were more honest, that knew no knavery then some now are, that confesse the knowledge and deny the practise, about that time (when so ere it was) there was wont to walke many harmlesse spirits called fayries, dancing in brave order in fayry rings on greene hills with sweete musicke (sometime invisible) in divers shapes : many mad prankes would they play, as pinching of sluts black and blue, and misplacing things in illordered houses; but lovingly would they use wenches that cleanly were, giving them silver and other pretty toyes, which they would leave for them, sometimes in their shooes, other times in their pockets, sometimes in bright basons and other cleane vessels.

Amongst these fayries was there a hee fayrie ; whether he was their king or no I know not, but surely he had great government and commaund in that country, as you shall heare. This same hee fayry did love a proper young wench, for every night would hee with other fayries come to the house, and there dance in her chamber; and oftentimes shee was forced to dance with him, and at his departure would hee leave her silver and jewels, to expresse his love unto her. At last this mayde was with childe, and being asked who was the father of it, she answered a man that nightly came to visit her, but earely in the morning he would go his way, whither she knew not, he went so suddainly.

Many old women, that then had more wit than those that are now living and have lesse, sayd that a fayry had gotten her with childe; and they bid her be of good comfort, for the childe must needes be fortunate that had so noble a father as a fayry was,