The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd,
My father he has the keys, sir;
But I have for my love prepar'd
A shorter way and easier.

Over the moate I've laid a plank
Full seventeen feet in measure:
Then step a-cross to the other bank,
And there we'll take our pleasure.

These words she had no sooner spoke,
But strait he came tripping over:
The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke;
And sous'd the unhappy lover.

WHY SO PALE?

BY SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?
Prethee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

Prethee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prethee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing doe't ?

Prethee, why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame; this will not move,
This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her.

The devil take her!

OLD TOM OF BEDLAM.

MAD SONG THE FIRST.

Or these six Mad Songs, the three first are originals, while the merit of the three last is chiefly that of imitation. The first and second were probably written at the beginning of the seventeenth century; the third about the middle of it; the fourth and sixth towards the end; and the fifth within the eighteenth century. The English are said to have more songs on the subject of madness than any of their neighbours, and Mr. Payne Collier explains the fact by the dissolution of the religious Houses, which left the poor without any fixed provision, while idle wanderers assumed the character most likely to awaken sympathy, and secure them from detection. Accordingly madness was a favourite disguise, and "Bedlam beggars" became a distinctive title. The author of this rhapsody is said, by Walton, to have been William Basse, who composed the "choice song" of the "Hunter in his Career;" but Mr. Chappell thinks that the "Toms of Bedlam" were so numerous as to prevent the identification of the particular song to which Walton alludes.

FORTH from my sad and darksome cell,
Or from the deepe abysse of hell,
Mad Tom is come into the world againe,
To see if he can cure his distempered braine.
Feares and cares oppresse my soule;
Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle!
Pluto laughes, and Proserpine is gladd
To see poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd.

Through the world I wander night and day
To seeke my straggling senses.

In an angrye moode I mett old Time,
With his Pentateuch of tenses:

When me he spyed,

Away he hyed,

For Time will stay for no man :

In vaine with cryes

I rent the skyes,

For pity is not common.

Cold and comfortless I lye:
Helpe, oh helpe! or else I dye!
Harke! I heare Apollo's teame,
The carman 'gins to whistle;
Chast Diana bends her bowe,
The boare begins to bristle.

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles,
To knocke off my troublesome shackles ;
Bid Charles make ready his waine
To fetch me my senses againe.

Last night I heard the dog-star bark;
Mars met Venus in the darke;
Limping Vulcan het an iron barr,
And furiouslye made at the god of war :

Mars with his weapon laid about,
But Vulcan's temples had the gout,
For his broad horns did so hang in his light,
He could not see to aim his blowes aright:

Mercurye, the nimble post of heaven,
Stood still to see the quarrell;
Gorrel-bellyed' Bacchus, gyant-like,
Bestryd a strong-beere barrell.

To mee he dranke,
I did him thanke,
But I could get no cyder;
He dranke whole butts
Till he burst his gutts,

But mine were ne'er the wyder.

Poore naked Tom is very drye:
A little drinke for charitye!
Harke, I hear Acteon's horne!

The huntsmen whoop and hallowe:
Ringwood, Royster, Bowman, Jowler,
All the chase do followe.

The man in the moone drinkes clarret,
Eates powder'd beef, turnip, and carret,
But a cup of old Malaga sack

Will fire the bushe at his backe.

1 Gorrel-fut.

THE DISTRACTED PURITAN,

MAD SONG THE SECOND,

WAS written, about the beginning of the seventeenth century, by Richard Corbet [b. 1582, d. 1635], successively Dean of Christ Church and Bishop of Oxford and Norwich. Aubrey tells some amusing stories of his humour, and describes his aspect as grave and venerable."

66

AM I mad, O noble Festus,
When zeal and godly knowledge
Have put me in hope

To deal with the Pope,

As well as the best in the college?

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice,

Mitres, copes, and rochets ;

Come hear me pray nine times a day,

And fill your heads with crochets.

In the house of pure Emanuel'
I had my education,

Where my friends surmise
I dazel'd my eyes

With the sight of revelation.

They bound me like a bedlam,
They lash'd my four poor quarters;
Whilst this I endure,

Faith makes me sure
To be one of Foxe's martyrs.

These injuries I suffer

Through antichrist's perswasion:

Take off this chain,

Neither Rome nor Spain

Can resist my strong invasion.

Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us!)

I have knock'd off three already;

If they let me alone

I'll leave him none:

But they say I am too heady.

1 Emanuel College, Cambridge, was originally a seminary of Puritans.

When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city,
I met the great red dragon;
I kept him aloof

With the armour of proof,

Though here I have never a rag on.

With a fiery sword and target,
There fought I with this monster:
But the sons of pride

My zeal deride,

And all my deeds misconster.

I un-hors'd the Whore of Babel,
With the lance of Inspiration;
I made her stink,

And spill the drink

In her cup of abomination.

I have seen two in a vision
With a flying book' between them.
I have been in despair

Five times in a year,

And been cur'd by reading Greenham.2

I observ'd in Perkins' tables3
The black line of damnation;
Those crooked veins

So stuck in my brains,
That I fear'd my reprobation.

In the holy tongue of Canaan
I plac'd my chiefest pleasure:
Till I prick'd my foot

With an Hebrew root,

That I bled beyond all measure.

1 Alluding to some visionary exposition of Zech., ch. v. ver. 1; or, if the date of this song would permit, one might suppose it aimed at one Coppe, a strange enthusiast, whose life may be seen in Wood's "Athen.," vol. ii. p. 501. He was author of a book, entitled "The Fiery Flying Roll;" and afterwards pubJished a recantation, part of whose title is, "The Fiery Flying Roll's Wings Clipt," &c.

See Greenham's Works, fol. 1605, particularly the tract entitled "A Sweet Comfort for an Afflicted Conscience."

3 See Perkins's Works, fol. 1616, vol. i. p. 11; where is a large half sheet folded, containing "A survey, or table, declaring the order of the causes of salvation and damnation, &c.," the pedigree of damnation being distinguished by a broad, black, zig-zag line.