X.

THE LADY'S FALL,

is given (with corrections) from the editor's ancient folio MS. collated with two printed copies in black-letter; one in the British Museum, the other in the Pepys collection. Its old title is, "A lamentable ballad of the Lady's fall." To the tune of," In Pefcod Time, &c."-The ballad here referred to is preferved in the MUSES LIBRARY, 8vo. p. 281. It is an allegory or vifion, intitled, "THE SHEPHERD'S SLUMBER," and opens with fome pretty rural images, viz.

"In pefcod time when hound to horn
"Gives eare till buck be kil'd,
"And little lads with pipes of corne
"Sate keeping beafts a-field.

"I went to gather ftrawberries

"By woods and groves fall fair, &c."

M

ARKE well my heavy dolefull tale,
You loyall lovers all,

And heedfully beare in your breft,

A gallant ladyes fall.

Long was she wooed, ere thee was wonne,

To lead a wedded life,

But folly wrought her overthrowe

Before thee was a wife.

Too foone, alas! fhee gave confent

And yeelded to his will,

Though he protested to be true,

And faithfull to her ftill.
Shee felt her body altered quite,

Her bright hue waxed pale,

Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color white,
Her ftrength began to fayle.

Soe that with many a forrowful figh,
This beauteous ladye milde,
With greeved hart, perceived herselfe
To have conceived with childe.
Shee kept it from her parents fight
As close as clofe might bee,
And foe put on her filken gowne
None might her fwelling fee.

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Unto her lover fecretly

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Her greefe fhee did bewray,

And walking with him hand in hand,

These words to him did say;

Behold, quoth fhee, a maids diftreffe

By love brought to thy bowe,

Behold I goe with childe by thee,

Tho none thereof doth knowe.

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The

The litle babe springs in my wombę

To heare its fathers voyce,

Lett it not be a bastard called,

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Sith I made thee my choyce:

Come, come, my love, perform thy vowe

And wed me out of hand;

O leave me not in this extreme
Of griefe, alas! to stand.

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Think on thy former promises,

Thy oathes and vowes eche one; Remember with what bitter teares

Dread not thy life to fave my fame,

For if thou taken bee,

My felfe will step betweene the swords,

And take the harme on mee:

Soe fhall I fcape dishonor quite;

And if I fhould be flaine

What could they say, but that true love
Had wrought a ladyes bane.

But feare not any further harms;
My felfe will foe devise,
That I will ryde away with thee
Unknowen of mortall eyes:
Difguised like fome pretty page
Ile meete thee in the darke,
And all alone Ile come to thee
Hard by my fathers parke

And there, quoth hee, Ile meete my deare

If God foe lend me life,

On this day month without all fayle

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I will make thee my wife.

Then with a sweet and loving kiffe,

They parted presentlye,

And att their partinge brinish teares

Stoode in eche others

Att length the wished day was come,
On which this beauteous mayd,

With longing eyes, and ftrange attire,

For her true lover stayd. When any person shee espyed

Come ryding ore the plaine,

She hop'd it was her owne true love:

But all her hopes were vaine.

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And haft thou now forfaken mee
In this my great distresse,
To end my dayes in open fhame,

Which thou mightft well redreffe ?
Woe worth the time I eer believ'd
That flattering tongue of thine:
Wold God that I had never seene

The teares of thy false eyne.

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And