Tell age, it daily wasteth;
Tell honour, how it alters;
Tell beauty, how she blasteth;
Tell favour, how she falters;
And as they shall reply,
Give each of them the lye.

Tell wit, how much it wrangles

In tickle points of nicenesse; Tell wisedome, she entangles Herselfe in over-wisenesse; And if they do reply,

Straight give them both the lye.

Tell physicke of her boldnesse;

Tell skill, it is pretension;

Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law, it is contention;

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Tell arts, they have no soundnesse,

But vary by esteeming;

Tell schooles, they want profoundnesse,
And stand too much on seeming:

If arts and schooles reply,
Give arts and schooles the lye.

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Tell faith, it's fled the citie;

Tell how the countrey erreth;
Tell, manhood shakes off pitie;
Tell, vertue least preferreth:
And, if they doe reply,
Spare not to give the lye.

So, when thou hast, as I

Commanded thee, done blabbin,

Although to give the lye

Deserves no less than stabbing,

Yet stab at thee who will,
No stab the soule can kill.

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V.

VERSES BY KING JAMES I.

In the first edition of this book were inserted, by way of specimen of his majesty's poetic talents, some Punning Verses made on the disputations at Stirling but it having been suggested to the editor, that the king only gave the quibbling commendations in prose, and that some obsequious court-rhymer put them into metre;1 it was thought proper to exchange them for two Sonnets of K. James's own composition. James was a great versifier, and therefore out of the multitude of his poems, we have here selected two, which (to shew our impartiality) are written in his best and his worst manner. The first would not dishonour any writer of that time; the second is a most complete example of the bathos.

A SONNET ADDRESSED BY KING JAMES TO HIS SON

PRINCE HENRY:

From K. James's works in folio: Where is also printed another called his Majesty's own Sonnet; it would perhaps be too cruel to infer from thence that this was not his Majesty's own Sonnet.2

1 See a folio intitled, 'The Muses welcome to King James.'-2 See Washington Irving's paper in the Sketch-book, 'A Royal Poet.'-ED.

GOD gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his scepter do they swey:
And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So kings should feare and serve their God againe.

If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne,

Observe the statutes of our heavenly king; And from his law make all your laws to spring; Since his lieutenant here ye should remaine.

Rewarde the just, be stedfast, true and plaine;
Represse the proud, maintayning aye the right;
Walke always so, as ever in his sight,
Who guardes the godly, plaguing the prophane.
And so ye shall in princely vertues shine,
Resembling right your mightie king divine.

A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH HINDRED THE SPORTS AT NEWMARKET IN

JANUARY 1616.

This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden's works, folio: where also may be seen some verses of Lord Stirling's upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the finest anticlimax I remember to have seen.

How cruelly these catives do conspire!

What loathsome love breeds such a baleful band Betwixt the cankred king of Creta land,1

That melancholy old and angry sire,

And him, who wont to quench debate and ire

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Among the Romans, when his ports were clos'd?2

But now his double face is still dispos'd, With Saturn's help, to freeze us at the fire.

1 Saturn.-2 Janus.

The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow,
Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast:
The chilling cold lets every thing to grow,
And surfeits cattle with a starving feast.

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Curs'd be that love and mought' continue short, Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport.

VI.

K. JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF

CANTERBURY.

The common popular ballad of King John and the Abbot seem to have been abridged and modernized about the time of James I, from one much older, intitled, King John and the Bishop of Canterbury.' The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a state to be reprinted; it however afforded many lines worth reviving, which will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas.

The archness of the following questions and answers hath been much admired by our old ballad-makers; for besides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant another ballad on the same subject (but of no great antiquity or merit), intitled 'King Olfrey and the Abbot."2 Lastly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran against the Bishops, some Puritan worked up the same story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, concerning 'King Henry and a Bishop,' with this stinging moral:

'Unlearned men hard matters out can find,

When learned bishops princes eyes do blind.'s

The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy,
to 'The tune of Derry down.'

AN ancient story Ile tell you anon

Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.

1 i.e. may it. See the collection of Hist. Ballads, 3 vols. 1727. Mr. Wise supposes Olfrey to be a corruption of Alfred, in his pamphlet concerning the White Horse in Berkshire, p. 15.-3 The story of this ballad is found in an old Saxon book, called the 'Adventures of Howleglass,' 1483, and also in a collection of Spanish novels, 1576.-ED.

And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye;
How for his house-keeping, and high renowne,
They rode poste for him to fair London towne.

An hundred men, the king did heare say,
The abbot kept in his house every day;
And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt,
In velvet coates waited the abbot about.

'How now,' father abbot, I heare it of thee,
Thou keepest a farre better house than mee,
And for thy house-keeping and high renowne,
I feare thou work'st treason against my crown.'

'My liege,' quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne,
I never spend nothing, but what is my owne;
And I trust, your grace will doe me no deere,
For spending of my owne true-gotten geere.'

'Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe,
And now for the same thou needest must dye;
For except thou canst answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodìe.

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'And first,' quo' the king, 'when I'm in this stead, 25 With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all

my liege-men so noble of birthe,

Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe.

'Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt,

How soone I may ride the whole world about.

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And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think.'