CUDDY.

Shee that long true love profeft,

She hath robb'd my heart of reft:
For fhe a new love loves, not mee;
Which makes me wear the willowe-tree,

WILLY.

Come then, fhepherde, let us joine,
Since thy happ is like to mine:
For the maid I thought moft true
Mee hath alfo bid adieu.

CUDDY.

Thy hard happ doth mine appease,
Companye doth forrowe ease:

Yet, Phillis, ftill I pine for thee,

And ftill muft weare the willowe-tree.

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X.

THE LADY's FALL.

From the editor's ancient folio MS, collated with two printed copies in black letter; one in the British Museum, the other in the Pepys collection. Its old title is, "A lamentable "ballad of the Lady's fall. To the tune of, In Pefcod "Time, &c.

MA

ARKE well my heavy dolefull tale,
You loyall lovers all,

And heedfully beare in your breft,

A gallant ladyes fall.

Long was the woo'd, ere fhe was wonne,

To lead a wedded life,

But folly wrought her overthrowe

Before thee was a wife.

Too foone, alas! shee gave confent

And yeelded to his will,

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Though he protested to be true,

And faithfull to her ftill,

Shee felt her body altered quite,

Her bright hue waxed pale,

Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color white,
Her ftrength began to fayle.

Soe that with many a forrowful figh,
This beauteous ladye milde,

With greeved hart, perceiv'd herselfe

To have conceiv'd with childe.

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Shee

Shee kept it from her parents fight

As close as clofe might bee, And foe put on her filken gowne

None might her fwelling fee.

Unto her lover fecretly

Her greefe fhee did bewray,

And walking with him hand in hand,
These words to him did fay;
Behold, quoth fhee, a maids diftreffe

By love brought to thy bowe,
Behold I goe with childe by thee,

But none thereof doth knowe.

The little babe springs in my wombe

To heare its fathers voyce,

Lett it not be a bastard call'd,

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Sith I made thee my choyce :

Come, come, my love, perform thy vowe

And wed me out of hand;

O leave me not in this extreme,
In griefe alwayes to stand.

Thinke on thy former promises,
Thy oathes and vowes eche one ;
Remember with what bitter teares

To mee thou madeft thy moane.
Convay me to fome fecrett place,

And marry me with speede;

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Or

Or with thy rapyer end my life,
Ere further shame proceede.

Alacke! my dearest love, quoth hee,

My greatest joye on earthe,

Which waye can I convay

Without a fudden death?

thee hence,

Thy friends are all of hye degree,

And I of meane estate;

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And take the harme on mee:

Soe fhall I fcape dishonor quite;

And if I fhould be flaine

What could they fay, but that true love
Had wrought a ladyes bane.

And feare not any further harme;

My felfe will foe devife,

That I will ryde away with thee

Unknowne of mortal eyes: Disguised like fome pretty page, Ile meete thee in the darke, And all alone Ile come to thee,

Hard by my fathers parke.

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And

And there, quoth hee, Ile meete my deare

Att length the wished day was come,
On which this beauteous mayd,
With longing eyes, and ftrange attire,

For her true lover ftayd:
When any perfon fhee espyed

Come ryding ore the plaine,

She hop'd it was her owne true love;

But all her hopes were vaine.

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Then did shee weepe and fore bewayle

Her most unhappy fate;

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Then did fhee fpeake thefe woefull words,

As fuccourlefs fhee fate:

O falfe, forfworne, and faithleffe man,
Difloyall in thy love,

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Haft thou forgott thy promise past,
And wilt thou perjur'd prove?

And haft thou now forfaken mee

In this my great distresse,

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