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This winters weather itt waxeth cold,

And frost doth freese on every hill, And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold

That all our cattell are like to spill. Bell my wife, who loves noe strife,

She sayd unto me quietlye, “Rise up, and save cow Crumbockes liffe,

Man, put thine old cloake about thee.

HE. “O Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorne ?'

Thou kenst my cloake is very thin; Itt is soe bare and overworne,

A cricke he theron cannot runn: Then Ile noe longer borrowe nor lend,

For once Ile new appareld bee, To-morrow Ile to towne and spend,'

For Ile have a new cloake about mee."

SHE.
“ Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe,

She ha beene alwayes true to the payle,
Shee has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow,

And other things shee will not fayle;
I wold be loth to see her pine ;

Good husband, councell take of mee, It is not for us to go soe fine,

Man, take thine old cloake about thee."

HE.

6 My cloake it was a verry good cloake,

Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare, But now it is not worth a groat,

I have had it four and forty yeere; Sometime itt was of cloth in graine,

'Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see: It will neither hold out winde nor raine ;

And Ile have a new cloake about mee."

30

SHE.
“ It is four and fortye yeeres agoe

Since the one of us the other did ken,
And we have had betwixt us towe,

Of children either nine or ten;
Wee have brought them up to women and men

In the feare of God I trow they bee;
And why wilt thou thyself misken?

Man, take thine old cloake about thee.”

HE.
“ O Bell my wiffe, why dost thou floute !

Now is nowe, and then was then;
Seeke now all the world throughout,

Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen ;
They are clad in blacke, greene, yellowe, or "gray,'
Soe far above their owne degree;

46 Once in my life Ile doe as they,'

For Ile have a new cloake about mee.”

SHE.
“ King Stephen was a worthy peere,

His breeches cost him but a crowne;
He held them sixpence all too deere;

Therefore he calld the taylor Lowne.
He was a wight of high renowne,

And thouse but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that putts the countrye downe;

Then take thine old cloake about thee."

HE.

· Bell my wife she loves not strife,

Yet sbe will lead me if she can;
And oft, to live a quiet life,

I am forced to yield, though Ime good-man.

60

Ver. 49, King Harry ... a very good king. MS. V. 50, I trow his hose cost but. MS.

V. 51, He thought them 12d. too deere. MS. V. 52, clowne. MS. V. 53, He was king and wore the crowne. MS.

Itt's not for a man with a woman to threape,

Unlesse he first give oer the plea;
As wee began wee now mun leave,

And Ile take mine old cloake about mee.

mee.

VIII.

Willow, Willow, Willow. It is from the following stanzas that Shakspeare has taken his song of the Willow, in his Othello, act iv. sc. 3, 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 call'd Barbara:

She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad,
And did forsake her. She had a song of-Willow.
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune;

And she dyed singing it.”—Ed. 1793, vol. xv. p. 613. This is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, thus entitled, “ A Lovers Complaint, being forsaken of his Love. To a pleasant tune.”

A POORE soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;

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 garlànd.
He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,

Come willow, &c.
“I am dead to all pleasure, my true love is gone.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.
“ My love she is turned ; untrue she doth prove;

O willow, &c.
She renders me nothing but hate for my love.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

“O pitty me" (cried he), “ye lovers, each one ;

O willow, &c.
Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.
O willow, &c.

20 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.” The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;

O willow, &c.
The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones;

O willow, &c.
The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.
O willow, &c.

30 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd ! “Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove ;

O willow, &c.
She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.
O willow, &c.

35 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

“O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard !

Sing willow, &c.
My true love rejecting without all regard.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

40

45

“Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower;

O willow, &c.
For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.

O willow, &c. Sing, O the greene willow, &c. “ But what helps complaining ? In vaine I complaine :

O willow, &c.
I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.

O willowe, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

50

60

“Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,

O willow, &c. He that 'plaines of his false love, mine’s falser than she. O willow, &c.

55 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. “ The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet; .

O willow, &c,
A garland for lovers forsaken most meete.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!”

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!

O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd !
“O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart,

O willow, &c.
To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart!

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
“O willow, willow, willow ! the willow garlànd,

O willow, &c.
A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand.
O willow, &c.

15 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd. “ As here it doth bid to despair and to dye,

O willow, &c.
So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
“ In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view,

O willow, &c.
Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue.

O willow, &c.
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

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