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For though my ryme be ragged,
“Quho ? is at my windo? Quho? Quho? Go from my windo, go, go!
Quho callis thair
Sa lyke a strangair? Go from my windo, go!"
5 “Lord I am heir, ane wretchit mortall That for thy mercy dois cry and call Unto the, my Lord celestiall.
Se quho is at thy windo, quho!”
Go from my windo, go!”
EARLY TUDOR LYRICS (c. 1500)
I. RELIGIOUS LYRICS
Who shall have my fayr lady? Who but I? Who but I? Who? Who shall have my fayr lady? Who hath more ryght therto ?
Thys ender nyght'
A star as bright as day;
By-by, baby, lullay! Thys vyrgyn clere Wythowtyn pere
Unto hur son gane say: “My son, my lorde, My fathere dere,
Why lyest thow in hay?
This lady clere
Man soul yt ys, trust ye;
1 moth a complain the one in secrets fault haughty ? scarcely show, declare
the other night
“My son, I say Wythowtyn nay?
Thow art my derling dere; I shall the kepe Whyle thow dost slepe
And make the goode chere;
Quid petis, o fily ?”
Michi plausus oscula da-da,”
So pretyly, so pertly,
Ful softly and full soberly
Full softly and full soberly
“Quid petis," etc. I mene this by Mary, our Makers moder of myght, Full lovely lookyng on our Lord, the lanterne of lyght,
16 Thus saying to our Savior; this saw I in my syght.
“My son, my lorde,
Syth all ys at thy wyll,
Yff hyt be ryght and skylle;
II Fyll the cuppe, Phylyppe,
And let us drynke a drame! Ons or twys abowte the howse
And leave where we began. I drynke to your swete harte
Soo mutche as here is in, Desyeringe yow to followe me
And doo as I begyn!
You shall bere the blame.
Yf you will pledge me the same.
Be mery and glad this gud Newyere!
“What cher," etc.
8 I tell you all with hart so fre, Ryght welcum ye be to me; Be glad and mery, for charite!
“What cher,” etc. The gudman of this place in fere 1 You to be mery he prayth you here, And with gud hert he doth to you say, “What cher,” etc.
III. CONVIVIAL SONGS
IV. LOVE SONGS
I Lully, lulley, lulley, lulley! The fawcon hath born my makeaway!
Pastyme with good companye
together ? grudge • live " hinder
By that bedis side kneleth a may,
3. “Me thought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bow mee froe;
I'le be wrocken' on both them towe."
4. “Sweavens are swift, master,” quoth John,
“As the wind that blowes ore a hill; For if itt be never soe lowde this night,
To-morrow it may be still."
5. “Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
For John shall goe with mee;
In greenwood where they bee."
A shooting gone are they,
Where they had gladdest bee;
His body leaned to a tree. 7. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Had beene many a mans bane,
30 8. “Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John,
“Under this trusty tree,
To know his meaning trulye.”
The lytyll, prety nyghtyngale,
Among the levys grene,
But yet ye wote 'not whome I mene!
Among the thornys sherp and keyn And comfort me wyth mery cher.
But yet ye wot not whome I mene! She dyd aper’ all on hur keynde
A lady ryght well be-seyne, Wyth wordys of loff tolde me hur mynde.
But yet ye wot not whome I mene. Hyt dyd me goode upon hur to loke,
Hur corse was closyd all in grene; Away fro me hur herte she toke,
But yete ye wot not whome I mene. “Lady!" I cryed, wyth rufull mone,
“Have mynd of me, that true hath bene! For I loved none but you alone.”
But yet ye wot not whome I mene.
(Authors and Dates Unknown)
ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF
9. “A, John, by me thou setts noe store,
And that's a ffarleythinge;
And tarry my-selfe behinde?
And a man but heare him speake. 40 And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
John, I wold thy head breake."
That parted Robin and John.
The gates he knowes eche one. 12. And when hee came to Barnesdale,
Great heavinesse there hee hadd;
1. When shawess beene sheene, and shradds ?
To heare the small birds songe.
2. The woodweele 8 sang, and wold not cease,
Amongst the leaves a lyne;'
By deare God, that I meane.
13. And Scarlett a-ffoote flyinge was,
Over stockes and stone,
Fast after him is gone.
I know : appear 3 in nature groves 6 beautiful 'coppices • woodlark of linden 10 stout
1 avenged ? dreams 3 horse-hide • strange • valley
14. “Yett one shoote l'le shoote," sayes Litle John,
“With Crist his might and mayne; I'le make yond fellow that flyes soe fast
To be both glad and ffaine.” 15. John bent up a good veiwe ' bow, And ffetteled ? him to shoote;
60 The bow was made of a tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote. 16. “Woe worth thee, wicked wood,” sayd Litle
My boote : when thou shold bee !" 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott,
The arrowe flew in vaine,
Good William a Trent was slaine. 70 18. It had beene better for William a Trent
To hange upon a gallowe
There slaine with an arrowe.
Six can doe more than three:
And bound him ffast to a tree. 20. “Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,"
quoth the sheriffe,
80 “But thou may ffayle," quoth Litle John,
“If itt be Christs owne will."
For hee is bound fast to a tree,
In the green woode where they bee. 22. How these two yeomen together they mett,
Under the leaves of lyne,
90 23. "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth Sir Guy;
“Good morrow, good ffellow," quoth hee; “Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy
A good archer thou seems to bee." 24. “I am wilfull my way," quoth Sir Guye,
And of my morning tyde:”'
* yew ? made ready Shelp