I will be dutifull, and make
My selfe for daliance trim."
So was she, and so lovingly
Did entertaine her lord,
As fairer, or more faultles none
Could be for bed or bord.

Yet still he loves his leiman, and
Did still pursue that game,

Suspecting nothing less, than that
His lady knew the same :

Wherefore to make him know she knew,
She this devise did frame:

When long she had been wrong'd, and sought

The foresayd meanes in vaine,

She rideth to the simple graunge

But with a slender traine.

She lighteth, entreth, greets them well,
And then did looke about her:

The guiltie houshold knowing her,
Did wish themselves without her;

Yet, for she looked merily,

90

95

100

105

The lesse they did misdoubt her.

110

When she had seen the beauteous wench

(Then blushing fairnes fairer)

Such beauty made the countesse hold
Them both excus'd the rather.

"Who would not bite at such a bait ?"

Thought she "and who (though loth)
So poore a wench, but gold might tempt?
Sweet errors lead them both.

Scarse one in twenty that had bragg'd
Of proffer'd gold denied,

Or of such yeelding beautie baulkt,
But, tenne to one, had lied."

:

Thus thought she and she thus declares
Her cause of coming thether :

115

120

"My lord, oft hunting in these partes,
Through travel, night or wether,

Hath often lodged in your house;
I thanke you for the same;
For why it doth him jolly ease
To lie so neare his game.

But, for you have not furniture
Beseeming such a guest,

I bring his owne, and come myselfe
To see his lodging drest."

With that two sumpters were discharg'd,
In which were hangings brave,
Silke coverings, curtens, carpets, plate,
And al such turn should have.

125

130

135

When all was handsomly dispos'd,
She prayes them to have care

140

That nothing hap in their default,
That might his health impair:

"And, Damsell," quoth shee, "for it seemes

This houshold is but three,

And for thy parents age, that this

145

Shall chiefely rest on thee;

Do me that good, else would to God
He hither come no more."

So tooke she horse, and ere she went
Bestowed gould good store.

Full little thought the countie that
His countesse had done so;

Who now return'd from far affaires
Did to his sweet-heart go.

No sooner sat he foote within

The late deformed cote,

But that the formall change of things
His wondring eies did note.

150

155

But when he knew those goods to be
His proper goods; though late,
Scarce taking leave, he home returnes
The matter to debate.

The countesse was a-bed, and he
With her his lodging tooke;

160

"Sir, welcome home" (quoth shee); "this night 165 For you I did not looke."

Then did he question her of such

His stuffe bestowed soe.

"Forsooth," quoth she, "because I did

Your love and lodging knowe;

Your love to be a proper wench,
Your lodging nothing lesse;

I held it for your health, the house
More decently to dresse.

Well wot I, notwithstanding her,
Your lordship loveth me ;

And greater hope to hold you such
By quiet, then brawles, 'you' see.

Then for my duty, your delight,

And to retaine your favour,

All done I did, and patiently
Expect your wonted "haviour."

Her patience, witte and answer wrought
His gentle teares to fall:

When (kissing her a score of times)
66 Amend, sweet wife, I shall:"

He said, and did it ; 'so each wife

Her husband may' recall.

170

175

180

185

VII.

DOWSABELL.

THE following stanzas were written by Michael Drayton, a poet of some eminence in the reigns of Q. Elizabeth, James I. and Charles I.* They are inserted in one of his Pastorals, the first edition of which bears this whimsical title. "Idea. The Shepheards Garland fashioned in nine Eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine muses. Lond. 1593." 4to. They are inscribed with the Author's name at length "To the noble and valerous gentleman master Robert Dudley," &c. It is very remarkable that when Drayton reprinted them in the first folio Edit. of his works, 1619, he had given those Eclogues so thorough a revisal, that there is hardly a line to be found the same as in the old edition. This poem had received the fewest corrections, and therefore is chiefly given from the ancient copy, where it is thus introduced by one of his Shepherds :

"Listen to mee, my lovely shepheards joye,

And thou shalt heare, with mirth and mickle glee,
A pretie tale, which when I was a boy,

My toothles grandame oft hath tolde to me."

The Author has professedly imitated the style and metre of some of the old metrical Romances, particularly that of "Sir Isenbras," (alluded to in v. 3.) as the reader may judge from the following specimen :

"Lordynges, lysten, and you shal here, &c.

Ye shall well heare of a knight,
That was in warre full wyght,
And doughtye of his dede:

His name was Syr Isenbras,
Man nobler then he was

Lyved none with breade.

He was lyvely, large, and longe,

*

With shoulders broade, and armes stronge,

That myghtie was to se:

He was a hardye man, and hye,

10

15

All men hym loved that hym se,

*He was born in 1563, and died in 1631. Biog. Brit.
† As also Chaucer's "Rhyme of Sir Topas." v. 6.

For a gentyll knight was he :
Harpers loved him in hall,
With other minstrells all,

For he gave them golde and fee," &c.

26

20

This ancient Legend was printed in black-letter, 4to, by Wyllpam Copland; no date.-In the Cotton Library (Calig. A. 2.) is a MS. copy of the same Romance containing the greatest variations. They are probably two different translations of some French Original.

FARRE in the countrey of Arden,
There won'd a knight, hight Cassemen,
As bolde as Isenbras:
Fell was he, and eger bent,
In battell and in tournament,
As was the good Sir Topas.

He had, as antique stories tell,
A daughter cleaped Dowsabel,

A mayden fayre and free:
And for she was her fathers heire,
Full well she was y-cond the leyre,
Of mickle curtesie.

The silke well couth she twist and twine,
And make the fine march-pine,

And with the needle werke:

And she couth helpe the priest to say
His mattins on a holy-day,

And sing a psalme in kirke.

She ware a frock of frolicke greene,
Might well beseeme a mayden queene,
Which seemly was to see;

A hood to that so neat and fine,
In colour like the colombine,
Y-wrought full featously.

Her features all as fresh above,
As is the grasse that growes by Dove;

5

10

15

'ૐ

25