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“Am I rewarded thus," quoth he,

“In giving all I have Unto my children, and to beg

For what I lately gave ? I'll go unto my Gonorell:

My second child, I know, Will be more kind and pitiful,

And will relieve my woe.'



Full fast he hies then to her court;

Where when she heard his moan, Return'd him answer, that she griev'd

That all his means were gone,
But no way could relieve his wauts;

Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have

What scullions gave away.


When he had heard, with bitter tears,

He made his answer then;
“In what I did, let me be made

Example to all men.
I will return again,” quoth he,

"Unto my Ragan's court;
She will not use me thus, I hope,

But in a kinder sort."



Where when he came, she gave command

To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court,

(She said) he would not stay. Then back again to Gonorell

The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have

What scullion boys set by.


But there of that he was deny'd

Which she had promis'd late : For once refusing, he should not,

Come after to her gate.


Thus twixt his daughters for relief

He wandred up and down,
Being glad to feed on beggars food,

That lately wore a crown.


And calling to remembrance then

His youngest daughters words, That said, the duty of a child

Was all that love affords-
But doubting to repair to her,

Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantic mad; for in his mind

He bore the wounds of woe.



Which made him rend his milk-white locks

And tresses from his head,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,

With age and honour spread.
To hills and woods and watry founts,

He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods and senseless things

Did seem to sigh and groan.


Even thus possest with discontents,

He passed ore to France,
In hopes from fair Cordelia there

To find some gentler chance.
Most virtuous dame! which, when she heard

Of this her father's grief,
As duty bound, she quickly sent

Him comfort and relief.

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And by a train of noble peers,

In brave and gallant sort,
She gave in charge he should be brought

To Aganippus court;
Whose royal king, with noble mind,

So freely gave consent
To muster up his knights at arms,

To fame and courage bent.

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And so to England came with speed,

To repossesse King Leir,
And drive his daughters from their thrones

By his Cordelia dear.
Where she, true-hearted, noble queen,

Was in the battel slain;
Yet he, good king, in his old days,

Possest his crown again.
But when he heard Cordelia’s death,

Who died indeed for love
Of her dear father, in whose cause

She did this battle move,
He swooning fell upon her breast,

From whence he never parted;
But on her bosom left his life

That was so truly hearted.
The lords and nobles, when they saw

The end of these events,
The other sisters unto death

They doomed by consents;
And being dead, their crowns they left

Unto the next of kin :
Thus have you seen the fall of pride,

And disobedient sin.



Youth and Age is found in the little collection of Shakspeare's Sonnets, entitled the Passionate Pilgrime,' the greatest part of which seems to relate to the amours of Venus and Adonis, being little effusions of fancy, probably written while he was composing his larger Poem on that subject. The following seems intended for the mouth of Venus, weighing the comparative merits of youthful Adonis and aged Vulcan. In the Garland of Good-will it is reprinted, with the addition of four more such stanzas, but evidently written by a meaner pen.

1 Mentioned above, Song xii. b. ii.

CRABBED Age and Youth

Cannot live together;
Youth is full of pleasance,

Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,

Age like winter weather ;
Youth like summer brave,

Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Ages breath is short;

Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold ;

Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young !
Age, I do defie thee;
O sweet shepheard, hie thee,

For methinks thou stayst too long!
*** See Malone's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 325.

XVII. The Frolicksome Duke, or the Tinker's Good Fortune. The following ballad is upon the same subject as the Introduction to Shakspeare's Tuming of the Shrew: whether it may be thought to have suggested the hint to the dramatic poet, or is not rather of later date, the reader must determine.

The story is told of Philip the Good,'Duke of Burgundy, and is thus related by an old English writer: “ The said duke, at the marriage of Eleonora, sister to the king of Portugall, at Bruges in Flanders, which was solemnized in the deepe of winter; when as by reason of unseasonable weather he could neither hawke nor hunt, and was now tired with cards, dice, &c., and such other domestick sports, or to see ladies dance; with some of his courtiers he would in the evening walke disguised all about the towne. It so fortuned, as he was walking late one night, he found a countrey fellow dead drunke, snorting on a bulke; he caused

By Ludov. Vives in Epist. and by Pont. Heuter, Rerum Burgund. . .

his followers to bring him to his palace, and there stripping him of his old clothes, and attyring him after the court fashion, when he wakened, he and they were all ready to attend upon his excellency, and persuade him that he was some great duke. The poor fellow admiring how he came there, was served in state all day long; after supper he saw them dance, heard musicke, and all the rest of those court-like pleasures ; but late at night, when he was-well tipled, and again faste asleepe, they put on his old robes, and so conveyed him to the place where they first found him. Now the fellow had not made them so good sport the day before, as he did now, when he returned to himself; all the jest was to see how he looked upon it. In conclusion, after some little admiration, the poore man told his friends he had seen a vision, constantly believed it, and would not otherwise be persuaded, and so the jest ended.”— Burton's Anat. of Melancholy, pt. ii. sec. 2, mem. 4. 2d ed. 1624, fol.

This ballad is given from a black letter copy in the Pepys Collection which is entitled as above. “To the tune of Fond boy.

Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps a court,
One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport:
But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest
Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest :
A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground,
As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.

The duke said to his men, “ William, Richard, and Ben,
Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then.”
O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd
To the palace, altho' he was poorly arrai'd :

Then they stript off his cloaths, both his shirt, shoes, and
And they put him to bed for to take his repose. [hose,
Having pullid off his shirt, which was all over durt,
They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt :
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown,

15 They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown. In the morning, when day, then admiring he lay, For to see the rich chamber, both gaudy and gay. Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state, Till at last knights and squires they on him did wait; 20 And the chamberlain bare, then did likewise declare, He desired to know what apparel he'd ware: The poor tinker amaz’d, on the gentleman gaz'd, And admired how he to this honour was rais'd.

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