Chapter 5

Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one; I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall; He wold overcome them everye one, If once his beames they doe downe fall. This is cold comfort, sais my lord, To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea: Yet He bring him and his ship to shore, Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.

Then a noble gunner you must have, And he must aim well with his ee, And sinke his pinnace into the sea, Or else hee never orecome will bee: And if you chance his shipp to borde, This counsel I must give withall, Let no man to his topcastle goe To strive to let his beams downe fall.

And seven pieces of ordinance, I pray your honour lend to mee, On each side of my shipp along, And I will lead you on the sea. A glasse He sett, that may be seene Whether you sail by day or night; And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.

THE SECOND PART

The merchant sett my lorde a glasse Soe well apparent in his sight, And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight. His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold, Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee: Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais, This is a gallant sight to see.

Take in your ancyents, standards eke, So close that no man may them see; And put me forth a white willowe wand, As merchants use to sayle the sea. But they stirred neither top, nor mast; Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by. What English churles are yonder, he sayd, That can soe little curtesye?

Now by the roode, three yeares and more I have beene admirall over the sea; And never an English nor Portingall Without my leave can passe this way. Then called he forth his stout pinnace; "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee: I sweare by the masse, yon English churles Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."

With that the pinnace itt shot off, Full well Lord Howard might it ken; For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast, And killed fourteen of his men. Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord, Looke that thy word be true, thou said; For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang, If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.

Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold; His ordinance he laid right lowe; He put in chaine full nine yardes long, With other great shott lesse, and moe; And he lette goe his great gunnes shott: Soe well he settled itt with his ee, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.

And when he saw his pinnace sunke, Lord, how his heart with rage did swell! "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon; Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, Within his heart he was full faine: "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes, Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais, Weale howsoever this geere will sway; Itt is my Lord Admirall of England, Is come to seeke mee on the sea. Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare; In att his decke he gave a shott, Killed threescore of his men of warre.

Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott Came bravely on the other side, Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, And killed fourscore men beside. Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed, What may a man now thinke, or say? Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, He was my prisoner yesterday.

Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, That aye wast readye att my call: I will give thee three hundred markes, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, "Horseley see thou be true in stead; For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."

Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with might and maine; But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, Stroke the Gordon through the braine; And he fell unto the haches again, And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed: Then word went through Sir Andrews men, How that the Gordon hee was dead.

Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sisters sonne, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne. With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arròwe Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart:

And downe he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did streame amaine: Then every Scott cryed, Well-away! Alas! a comelye youth is slaine. All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With griefe and rage his heart did swell: "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, For I will to the topcastle mysell."

"Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe; That gilded is with gold soe cleare: God be with my brother John of Barton! Against the Portingalls hee it ware; And when he had on this armour of proofe, He was a gallant sight to see: Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, My deere brother, could cope with thee."

Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord, And looke your shaft that itt goe right, Shoot a good shoote in time of need, And for it thou shalt be made a knight. Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then, Your honour shall see, with might and maine; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, I have now left but arrowes twaine.

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then: Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place With a perfect eye in a secrette part; Under the spole of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.

"Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; He but lye downe and bleede a while, And then He rise and fight againe. Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, "And never flinch before the foe; And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse Until you heare my whistle blowe."

They never heard his whistle blow-- Which made their hearts waxe sore adread: Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord, For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead. They boarded then his noble shipp, They boarded it with might and maine; Eighteen score Scots alive they found, The rest were either maimed or slaine.

Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, And off he smote Sir Andrewes head, "I must have left England many a daye, If thou wert alive as thou art dead." He caused his body to be cast Over the hatchboard into the sea, And about his middle three hundred crownes: "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."

Thus from the warres Lord Howard came, And backe he sayled ore the maine, With mickle joy and triumphing Into Thames mouth he came againe. Lord Howard then a letter wrote, And sealed it with scale and ring; "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, As never did subject to a king:

"Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee; A braver shipp was never none: Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, Before in England was but one." King Henryes grace with royall cheere Welcomed the noble Howard home, And where, said he, is this rover stout, That I myselfe may give the doome?

"The rover, he is safe, my liege, Full many a fadom in the sea; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day: And your grace may thank four men i' the ship For the victory wee have wonne, These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, And Peter Simon, and his sonne."

To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd, In lieu of what was from thee tane, A noble a day now thou shalt have, Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, And lands and livings shalt have store; Howard shall be erle Surrye hight, As Howards erst have beene before.

Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintaine thee and thy sonne: And the men shall have five hundred markes For the good service they have done. Then in came the queene with ladyes fair To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight: They weend that hee were brought on shore, And thought to have seen a gallant sight.

But when they see his deadlye face, And eyes soe hollow in his head, I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes, This man were alive as hee is dead: Yett for the manfull part hee playd, Which fought soe well with heart and hand, His men shall have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother kings high land.

MAY COLLIN

May Collin ... ... was her father's heir, And she fell in love with a false priest, And she rued it ever mair.

He followd her butt, he followd her benn, He followd her through the hall, Till she had neither tongue nor teeth Nor lips to say him naw.

"We'll take the steed out where he is, The gold where eer it be, And we'll away to some unco land, And married we shall be."

They had not riden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till they came to a rank river, Was raging like the sea.

"Light off, light off now, May Collin, It's here that you must die; Here I have drownd seven king's daughters, The eight now you must be.

"Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your gown that's of the green; For it's oer good and oer costly To rot in the sea-stream.

"Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your coat that's of the black; For it's oer good and oer costly To rot in the sea-wreck.

"Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your stays that are well laced; For thei'r oer good and costly In the sea's ground to waste.

"Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,] Your sark that's of the holland; For [it's oer good and oer costly] To rot in the sea-bottom."

"Turn you about now, falsh Mess John, To the green leaf of the tree; It does not fit a mansworn man A naked woman to see."

He turnd him quickly round about, To the green leaf of the tree; She took him hastly in her arms And flung him in the sea.

"Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John, My mallasin go with thee! You thought to drown me naked and bare, But take your cloaths with thee, And if there be seven king's daughters there Bear you them company"

She lap on her milk steed And fast she bent the way, And she was at her father's yate Three long hours or day.

Up and speaks the wylie parrot, So wylily and slee: "Where is the man now, May Collin, That gaed away wie thee?"

"Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot, And tell no tales of me, And where I gave a pickle befor It's now I'll give you three."

THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN

PART THE FIRST

Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright; And many a gallant brave suiter had shee, For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.

And though shee was of favour most faire, Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre, Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee, Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say, Good father, and mother, let me goe away To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee. This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.

Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright, All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night From father and mother alone parted shee; Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.

Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow; Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe: With teares shee lamented her hard destinie, So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.

Shee kept on her journey untill it was day, And went unto Rumford along the hye way; Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee; Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.

Shee had not beene there a month to an end, But master and mistress and all was her friend: And every brave gallant, that once did her see, Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, And in their songs daylye her love was extold; Her beawtye was blazed in every degree; Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye; And at her commandment still wold they bee; Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee.

Foure suitors att once unto her did goe; They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe; I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee. Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee.

The first of them was a gallant young knight, And he came unto her disguisde in the night; The second a gentleman of good degree, Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, He was the third suiter, and proper withall: Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee, Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee.

And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight, Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight; My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle, That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee.

The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee, As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee: My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee; And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee.

Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say, Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee, And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.

Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say, My father and mother I meane to obey; First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee, And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee.

To every one this answer shee made, Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd, This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree; But where dwells thy father, my prettye Besse?

My father, shee said, is soone to be seene: The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene, That daylye sits begging for charitie, He is the good father of pretty Bessee.

His markes and his tokens are knowen very well; He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell: A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee, Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee.

Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee: Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee: I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree, And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee!

Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse, I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse, And bewtye is bewtye in every degree; Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee.

With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe. Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe; A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee, Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee.

But soone after this, by breake of the day, The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee, Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee.

As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene, Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene; And as the knight lighted most courteouslìe, They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.

But rescew came speedilye over the plaine, Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine. This fray being ended, then straitway he see His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee.

Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore, Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore: Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle, Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.

And then, if my gold may better her birthe, And equall the gold that you lay on the earth, Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee.

But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne, The gold that you drop shall all be your owne. With that they replyed, Contented bee wee. Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee.

With that an angell he cast on the ground, And dropped in angels full three thousand pound; And oftentime itt was proved most plaine, For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne:

Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt, With gold it was covered every whitt. The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more.

Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright. Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight; And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne.

The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene, Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene: And all those, that were her suitors before, Their fleshe for very anger they tore.

Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight, And then made a ladye in others despite: A fairer ladye there never was seene, Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene.

But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, What brave lords and knights thither were prest, The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight.

PART THE SECOND

Off a blind beggars daughter most bright, That late was betrothed unto a younge knight; All the discourse therof you did see; But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.

Within a gorgeous palace most brave, Adorned with all the cost they cold have, This wedding was kept most sumptuouslìe, And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.

All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete; Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.

This marriage through England was spread by report, Soe that a great number therto did resort Of nobles and gentles in every degree; And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.

To church then went this gallant younge knight; His bride followed after, an angell most bright, With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene.

This marryage being solempnized then, With musicke performed by the skilfullest men, The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde, Each one admiring the beautiful bryde.

Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, To talke, and to reason a number begunn: They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright, And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.

Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee, This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base, He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.

"The prayse of a woman in question to bringe Before her own face, were a flattering thinge; But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they, "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."

They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke, But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke; A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee, And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee.

He had a daintye lute under his arme, He touched the strings, which made such a charme, Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee, Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.

With that his lute he twanged straightway, And thereon begann most sweetlye to play; And after that lessons were playd two or three, He strayn'd out this song most delicatelìe.

"A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene, Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene: A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee, And many one called her pretty Bessee.

"Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land, But begged for a penny all day with his hand; And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three, And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.

"And if any one here her birth doe disdaine, Her father is ready, with might and with maine, To proove shee is come of noble degree: Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee."

With that the lords and the companye round With harty laughter were readye to swound; Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see, The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.

On this the bride all blushing did rise, The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes, O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee, That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.

If this be thy father, the nobles did say, Well may he be proud of this happy day; Yett by his countenance well may wee see, His birth and his fortune did never agree:

And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray, (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say) Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee; For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.

"Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one, One song more to sing, and then I have done; And if that itt may not winn good report, Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport.

"Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee; Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee, Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase, Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.

"When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose, Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose; A leader of courage undaunted was hee, And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.

"At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine; Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee, Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!

"Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde, His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side, Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight! A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.

"Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye, Till evening drewe on of the following daye, When by a yong ladye discovered was hee; And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee!

"A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte To search for her father, who fell in the fight, And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye, Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.

"In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine, While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee, And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.

"And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye, We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye; Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee: All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.

"And here have we lived in fortunes despite, Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte: Full forty winters thus have I beene A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.

"And here, noble lordes, is ended the song Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong: And thus have you learned a secrette from mee, That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee."

Now when the faire companye everye one, Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne, They all were amazed, as well they might bee, Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.

With that the faire bride they all did embrace, Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race, Thy father likewise is of noble degree, And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.

Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte, A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte, In joy and felicitie long lived hee, All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.

THOMAS THE RHYMER

Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank, A spying ferlies wi his eee, And he did spy a lady gay, Come riding down by the lang lee.

Her steed was o the dapple grey, And at its mane there hung bells nine; He thought he heard that lady say, "They gowden bells sall a' be thine."

Her mantle was o velvet green, And a' set round wi jewels fine; Her hawk and hounds were at her side, And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine.