[Peter, 151] Peter, said she, content thyselfe,
For mercye may be won,

110

I never did deny my Christ,

As thou thyselfe hast done.

(* Von 100 an ist die Verszählung irrig um eins voran.)

L 4

135

140

[I grant 152] I grant the same, O Lord, quoth she;
Most lewdly did I live:
But yet the loving father did
His prodigal son forgive.

We have not been able to meet with a more ancient copy of this humorous old song, than that printed in the TeaTable miscellany, &c. which seems to have admitted some corruptions.

ATE in an evening forth I went

LATE

A little before the sun gade down,
And there I chanc't, by accident,

To light on a battle new begun :

15

5

A man and his wife wer fawn in a strife,
I canna weel tell ye how it began;

20

But aye she wail'd her wretched life,

And cryed evir, alake, mine auld goodmann!

[HE. 119 (7. 153)]

10

15

HE.

Thy auld goodman, that thou tells of,

The country kens where he was born,
Was but a silly poor vagabond,

And ilka ane leugh him to scorn:
For he did spend and make an end

Of gear 'his fathers nevir' wan,
He gart the poor stand frae the door;

Sae tel nae mair of thy auld goodman.

5

10

SHE.

My heart, alake! is liken to break,
Whan I think on my winsome John,

His blinkan ee, and gait sae free,

Was naithing like thee, thou dosend drone;
Wi' his rosie face, and flaxen hair,

And a skin as white as ony swan,

He was large and tall, and comely withall,
Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman.

HE.

20

Why dost thou plein? I thee maintein,
For meal and mawt thou disna want;
But thy wild bees I canna please,

25

15

Now whan our gear gins to grow scant.
Of houshold stuff, thou hast enough,

Thou wants for neither pot nor pan;

30

Of sicklike ware he left thee bare,
Sae tel nae mair of thy auld goodman.

And gane was a' the light of day? (l.:)
The carle was fear'd to miss his mark,
And therefore wad nae longer stay:
Then up he gat, and ran his way,

I trowe, the wife the day she wan,
And aye the owreword of the fray
Was evir, alake! mine auld goodman.

40

45

XV. (l. XIV.)

THE LADY ISABELLA's TRAGEDY.

This ballad is given from an old black-letter copy in the Pepy's collection, collated with another in the British Museum, H. 263. folio. It is there entitled, "The Lady 5 Isabella's Tragedy, or The Step-Mother's Cruelty: being a relation of a lamentable and cruel murther, committed on the body of the Lady Isabella, the only daughter of a noble duke, &c. To the tune of The Lady's Fall."

5

[Go 156] Go home, sweet daughter, I thee praye,
Go hasten presentlie;

And tell unto the master-cook,

These wordes that I tell thee.

And bid him dresse to dinner streight,
That faire and milk-white doe; (l.,)
That in the parke doth shine so bright,
There's none so faire to showe.

This ladye fearing of no harme,
Obey'd her mothers will;

25

30

10

And presentlye she hasted home,
Her pleasure to fulfill.

35

She streight into the kitchen went,
Her message for to tell;

15

And there she spied the master-cook,
Who did with malice swell.

Nowe, master-cook, it must be soe,

Do that which I thee tell:

40

You needes must dresse the milk-white doe,
Which you do knowe full well.

Then streight his cruell bloodye hands,
He on the ladye layd;

45

25

20

35

Who quivering and shaking stands,
While thus to her he sayd:

[Thou 157] Thou art the doe, that I must dresse;

See here, behold my knife;

For it is pointed presentlye,

To ridd thee of thy life.

O then, cried out the scullion-boye,
As loud as loud might bee:

O save her life, good master-cook,
And make your pyes of mee!

For pityes sake do not destroye

My ladye with your knife;

You know shee is her father's joye,

For Christes sake save her life.

50

55

60