And with a warrant searched for
With Argus' hundred eyes,

Yet here thou shalt be safe;

Such privy ways there be,

That if they sought an hundred years,
They could not find out thee.

And so carousing both

Their pleasures to content:

George Barnwell had in little space

His money wholly spent.

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110

Which done, to Ludlow straight

He did provide to go,

To rob his wealthy uncle there;

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His minion would it so.

And once he thought to take

His father by the way,

But that he fear'd his master had

Took order for his stay.*

Unto his uncle then

He rode with might and main,

Who with a welcome and good cheer

Did Barnwell entertain.

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* i. e. for stopping, and apprehending him at his father's.

And beat his brains out of his head;
So sore he crackt his crown.

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Therefore in railing sort,

She thrust him out of door:

Which is the just reward of those,
Who spend upon a whore.

O! do me not disgrace

In this my need, quoth he.

She call'd him thief and murderer,

With all the spight might be :

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155

To the constable she sent,

To have him apprehended;

And shewed how far, in each degree,

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He had the laws offended.

When Barnwell saw her drift,

To sea he got straightway;

Where fear and sting of conscience
Continually on him lay.

Unto the lord mayor then,

He did a letter write;

In which his own and Sarah's fault

He did at large recite.

Whereby she seized was

And then to Ludlow sent :

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Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang'd,

For murder incontinent.

VII.

THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD.

These beautiful stanzas were written by GEORGE WITHER, of whom some account was given in the former part of this Volume: see the Song intitled THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION, Book II. Song XXI. In the first Edition of this work only a small fragment of this Sonnet was inserted. It was afterwards rendered more complete and entire by the addition of five Stanzas more, extracted from Wither's pastoral poem, intitled, "The Mistress of Philarete," of which this Song makes a part. It is now given still more correct and perfect by comparing it with another copy, printed by the author in his improved edition of "The Shepherd's Hunting," 1620, 8vo.

HENCE away, thou Syren, leave me,

Pish! unclaspe these wanton armes ;
Sugred words can ne'er deceive me,
(Though thou prove a thousand charmes.)

Fie, fie, forbeare;

No common snare

Can ever my affection chaine:

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Thy painted baits,

And poore deceits,

Are all bestowed on me in vaine.

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