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“ Unto the towne of Walfingham

“ The way is hard for to be gone; $ And verry

crooked are thote pathes " For you to find out all alone."

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Were the miles doubled thrise,

And the way never soe ill,
Itt were not enough for mine offence;

Itt is foe grievous and soe ill.

Thy yeares are young, thy face is faire,

“ Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene; “ Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15

• For to committ fo great a finne.”

Yes, herdsman, yes, soe woldst thou say,

If thou knewest soe much as I;
My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest,

Have well deserved for to dye.

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I am not what I seeme to bee,

My clothes, and sexe doe differ farr, I am a woman, woe is me!

Bora to greeffe and irksome care.


For my beloved, and well-beloved,

My wayward cruelty could kill :
And though my teares will nought avail,

Moj decrely I be wail him itill,


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When thus I saw he loved me well,

I grewe so proude bis paine to see, That I, who did not know myselfe,

Thought fcorne of such a youth as hee.


And grew foe coy and nice to please,

As womens lookes are often soe,
He might not kifes, nor hand forsooth,

Unlesse I willed him soe to doe.

Thus being wearyed with delayes,

To see I pityed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place,

And there hee dyed without releeffe.


And for his fake these weedes I

weare, And facriffice


age ; And every day Ile begg my bread,

To undergoe this pilgrimage.

Thus every day I fast and praye,

And ever will doe till I dye ; And gett me to fome secrett place,

For soe did hee, and soe will I.



Now, gentle herdsman, ake no more,

But keepe my secretts I thee pray;
Unto the towne of Walfingham

Show me the right and readye way.


« Now

goe thy wayes, and God before !
" For he must ever guide thee ftill:
“ Turne downe that dale, the right hand path,

“ And soe, faire Pilgrim, fare thee well!” бо



Was a story of great fame among our ancestors. The author of the Art of ENGLISH Poesie, 1589, 4to, seems to speak of it, as a real fact. - Describing that vicicus mode of speech, which the Greeks called AcYRON, i. e. 6 When we ujë a dark and obscure word, utterly repugnant to that we would express ;he adds, Such manner of uncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to king Ed56 ward the fourth; which Tunner, having a great while

mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at length, perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was

afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with a certaine rude repentance,

" I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow, for (I feare me) I mall be hanged, whereat the king

laughed a good, not only to see the Tanners vaine feare, but also to beare his illibapen terme ; and gave





him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of « Plumpton-parke. I AM AFFRAID,” concludes this fagacious writer, THE POETS OF OUR TIME, THAT SPEAKE


Тbe phrase, here referred to, is not found in this ballad at prefent, but occurs with some variation in the older poem, intitled John the Reeve, described in the former volume,

p. 179, viz.

Nay, fayd John, by Gods grace,
" And Edward wer in this place,

Hee smold not touch this tonne :
" Hee weld be wroth with John I Hope,

Therefore I beshrew the foupe,

That in his mouth shold come.Pt. 2. ft. 24. The following text is feleted from two copies in black letter. The one in the Bodleyan library, intitled, A mer" rie, pleasant, and delectable historie betweene K. Edward " the fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c. printed at London, by John Danter, 1596.This copy, ancient as it now is, appears to have been modernized and altered at the time it was published; but many vestiges of the riore ancient readings were recovered from another copy, ( tho' mere recently printed,) in one freet folio, without date, in the Pepy's colle Etion.


N summer time, when leaves grow greene,

And blossoms bedecke the tree,
King Edward wolde a hunting ryde,

Some pastime for to see.


With kawke and hounde he made him bowne,

With horne, and eke with bowe;
To Drayton Baffet he tooke his waye,

With all his lordes rowe,

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And he had ridden ore dale and downe

By eight of clocke in the day, When he was ware of a bold tanner

a Come ryding along the waye.

A fayre russet coat the tanner had on

Faft buttoned under his chin, And under him a good cow-hide,

And a mare of four shilling.


Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all,

Under the grene wood spraye; And I will wend to yonder fellowe,

To weet what he will faye.

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God speede, God speede thee, said our king.

Thou art welcome, fir, fayd hee. “ The readyest waye to Drayton Basset I praye

thee to shewe to mee.”


“ To Drayton Basset woldst thou

goe, Fro the place where thou dost stand ? The next payre of gallowes thou comelt unto,

Turne in upon thy right hand.”


That is an unreadye waye, fayd our king,

Thou doeft but jeft I fee :
Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye,

And I pray thee wend with mee.


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