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And thus they led a quiet life

During their princely raigne ;

110

And in a tombe were buried both,
As writers sheweth plaine.
The lords they tooke it grievously,
The ladies tooke it heavily,
The commons cryed pitiously,

Their death to them was paine,
Their fame did sound so passingly,

That it did pierce the starry sky,

And throughout all the world did flye

To every princes realme.*

Ver. 112, Sheweth was anciently the plur. numb.

115

120

* An ingenious friend thinks the two last stanzas should change place.

VII.

TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE,

-is supposed to have been originally a Scotch Ballad. The reader here has an ancient copy in the English idiom, with an additional stanza (the 2d) never before printed. This curiosity is preserved in the Editor's folio MS. but not without corruptions, which are here removed by the assistance of the Scottish Edit. Shakspeare, in his OTHELLO, act ii. has quoted one stanza, with some variations, which are here adopted: the old MS. readings of that stanza are however given in the margin.

THIS winters weather itt waxeth cold,

And frost doth freese on every hill, And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold,

That all our cattell are like to spill; Bell my wiffe, who loves noe strife,

She sayd unto me quietlye,

Rise up, and save cow Crumbockes liffe,
Man, put thine old cloake about thee.

HE.

O Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorne P
Thou kenst my cloak is very thin:

Itt is soe bare and overworne

A cricke he theron cannot renn: Then Ile noe longer borrowe nor lend, For once Ile new appareld bee,

To-morrow Ile to towne and spend,'

For Ile have a new cloake about mee.

SHE.

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Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe,

Shee ha beene always true to the payle,

Shee has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow, And other things shee will not fayle;

I wold be loth to see her pine,

Good husband, councell take of mee,

It is not for us to go soe fine,

Man, take thine old cloake about thee.

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HE.

My cloake it was a verry good cloake,
Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare,
But now it is not worth a groat;

I have had it four and forty yeere :
Sometime itt was of cloth in graine,

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'Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see, 30 It will neither hold out winde nor raine;

And Ile have a new cloake about mee.

SHE.

It is four and fortye yeeres agoe

Since the one of us the other did ken,

And we have had betwixt us towe

Of children either nine or ten;

35

Wee have brought them up to women and men;
In the feare of God I trow they bee;
And why wilt thou thyselfe misken ?

Man, take thine old cloake about thee.

HE.

O Bell my wiffe, why dost thou floute !'
Now is nowe, and then was then :

Seeke now all the world throughout,

Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen.

40

They are cladd in blacke, greene, yellowe, or

' gray,'

Soe far above their owne degree:

Once in my life Ile 'doe as they,'

For Ile have a new cloake about mee.

Ver. 41. flyte. MS.

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And thouse but of a low degree:

Itt's pride that putts this countrye downe,
Man, take thine old cloake about thee.

HE.

'Bell my wife she loves not strife,

Yet she will lead me if she can ;

And oft, to live a quiet life,

55

I am forced to yield, though Ime good-man ;' 60 Itt's not for a man with a woman to threape, Unlesse he first gave oer the plea :

As wee began wee now will leave,

And Ile take mine old cloake about mee.

Ver. 49. King Harry.. a very good king. MS. Ver. 50. I trow his hose cost but. MS. Ver. 51. He thought them 12d to deere. MS. Ver. 52. clowne. MS. Ver. 53. He was king and wore the crowne. MS.

VIII.

WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW.

It is from the following stanzas that Shakspeare has taken his song of the WILLOW, in his OTHELLO, act iv. sc. 3, though somewhat varied and applied by him to a female character. He makes Desdemona introduce it in this pathetic and affecting manner:

“My mother had a maid call'd Barbara :

"She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, "And did forsake her. She had a Song of -WILLOW. "An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, "And she died singing it."

Ed. 1793, vol. xv. p. 613

This is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, thus entitled, "A Lover's Complaint, "being forsaken of his Love." To a pleasant tune.

A POORE Soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;
O willow, willow, willow!

With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee:

O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,
Come willow, &c.

I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone;
O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

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