VIII.-WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. IT is from the following stanzas that Shakespeare has taken his song of the Willow, in his Othello, Act iv. Sc. iii., 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 called Barbara : She was in love; and he she lov❜d prov'd mad, A POORE Soule sat sighing under a sica- 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, etc. I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland. My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove: O willow, etc. She renders me nothing but hate for my love. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. O pitty me (cried he) ye lovers, each one; Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; O willow, etc. The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face: O willow, etc. Sing, O the green willow, etc. The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones; O willow, etc. The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland! Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove ; O willow, etc. She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland. O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard! Sing willow, etc. My true love rejecting without all regard. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower; O willow, etc. For women are trothles, and flote in an houre. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine : O willow, etc. A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand: O willow, etc. I must patiently suffer her scorne and dis- Sing, O the greene willow, etc. daine. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. As here it doth bid to despair and to dye, O willow, etc. Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where O willow, etc. He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's Sing, O the greene willow shall be my falser than she. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet; O willow, etc. A Garland for lovers forsaken most meete. O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland! PART THE SECOND. LOWE lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine ; O willow, willow, willow! Against her too cruell, still still I complaine, O willow, willow, willow! Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland! O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart? O willow, etc. To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart: O willow, etc. Sing, O the greene willow, etc. O willow, willow, willow! the willow garland, O willow, etc. It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my Sing, O the greene willow shall be my The THIS ballad is quoted in Shakespeare's second part of Henry IV. Act ii. subject of it is taken from the ancient romance of King Arthur (commonly called Morte Arthur), being a poetical translation of chaps. cvii., cix., cx. in Part i., as they stand in ed. 1634, 4to. In the older editions the chapters are differently numbered. This song is given from a printed copy, corrected in part by a fragment in the Editor's folio MS. WHEN Arthur first in court began, And was approved king, By force of armes great victorys wanne, Then into England straight he came And he had justs and turnaments, Wherto were many prest, Wherin some knights did far excell And eke surmount the rest. But one Sir Lancelot du Lake, Who was approved well, He for his deeds and feats of armes When he had rested him a while, He armed rode in a forrest wide, Suche wold I find, quoth Lancelott: For that cause came I hither. Thou seemst, quoth shee, a knight full good, And I will bring thee thither. Wheras * a mighty knight doth dwell, That now is of great fame : Therfore tell me what wight thou art, And what may be thy name. "My name is Lancelot du Lake." Who has in prison threescore knights She brought him to a river side, He struck soe hard, the bason broke; And Tarquin soon he spyed: Who drove a horse before him fast, Whereon a knight lay tyed. Sir knight, then sayd Sir Lancelott, Bring me that horse-load hither, And lay him downe, and let him rest; Weel try our force together: For, as I understand, thou hast, Soe far as thou art able, If thou be of the Table Round, I utterly defye. That's over much, quoth Lancelott tho, Defend thee by and by. They sett their speares unto their steeds, And eache att other flie. They coucht theire speares (their horses ran, As though there had been thunder), And strucke them each immidst their shields, Wherewith they broke in sunder. Their horsses backes brake under them, They tooke them to their shields full fast, They wounded were, and bled full sore, And tell to me what I shall aske. Say on, quoth Lancelot tho. Thou art, quoth Tarquine, the best knight That ever I did know; And like a knight, that I did hate : Soe that thou be not hee, I will deliver all the rest, And eke accord with thee. That is well said, quoth Lancelott; What knight is that thou hatest thus? His name is Lancelot du Lake, Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne, And I desire thee do thy worst. Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho, One of us two shall end our lives Before that we do go. If thou be Lancelot du Lake, Then welcome shalt thou bee: Wherfore see thou thyself defend, For now defye I thee. They buckled then together so, Like unto wild boares rashing ;* And with their swords and shields they ran At one another slashing: The ground besprinkled was with blood: *Rashing seems to be the old hunting term to express the stroke made by the wild boar with his fangs. This soone Sir Lancelot espyde, He leapt upon him then, He pull'd him downe upon his knee, And rushing off his helm, Forthwith he strucke his necke in two, And, when he had soe done, From prison threescore knights and four X.-CORYDON'S FAREWELL TO PHILLIS Is an attempt to paint a lover's irresolution, but so poorly executed, that it would not have been admitted into this collection, if it had not been quoted in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. iii. FAREWELL, dear love; since thou wilt needs be gone, Mine eyes do shew, my life is almost done. Nay I will never die, so long as I can spie There be many mo, though that she doe There be many mo, I fear not : Farewell, farewell; since this I find is true, love there: Shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe? Ten thousand times farewell;-yet stay a while : Sweet, kiss me once; sweet kisses time beguile : I have no power to move. How now am I in love? Wilt thou needs be gone? Go then, all is one. Wilt thou needs be gone? Oh, hie thee! Nay stay, and do no more deny me. Once more adieu, I see loath to depart Goe thy way for me, since that may not be. Goe thy ways for me. But whither? Goe, oh, but where I may come thither. What shall I doe? my love is now departed. She would not be intreated, with prayers If she come no more, shall I die therefore? XI.-GERNUTUS, THE JEW OF VENICE. THIS ballad, Mr. Warton thinks, gave rise to Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, though other critics have based it upon a direct Italian source. Doubtless the Italian story, wherein, however, the Christian played the part of Shakespeare's Jew, was known both to the dramatist and to the author of the present ballad. IN Venice towne not long agoe A cruel Jew did dwell, Which lived all on usurie, THE FIRST PART. Gernutus called was the Jew, |