Chapter XII: Part THE SECOND (1)

Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,
That late was betrothed unto a younge knight;
All the discourse therof you did see;
But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.

Within a gorgeous palace most brave, 5
Adorned with all the cost they cold have,
This wedding was kept most sumptuouslìe,
And all for the creditt of pretty Bessee.

All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete
Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete; 10
Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,
Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.

This marriage through England was spread by report,
Soe that a great number therto did resort
Of nobles and gentles in every degree; 15
And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.

To church then went this gallant younge knight;
His bride followed after, an angell most bright,
With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was seene
As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene. 20

This marryage being solempnized then,
With musicke performed by the skilfullest men,
The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde,
Each one admiring the beautifull bryde.

Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, 25
To talke, and to reason a number begunn:
They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright,
And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.

Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee,
This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." 30
My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base,
He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.

"The prayse of a woman in questyon to bringe
Before her own face, were a flattering thinge;
But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they, 35
"Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."

They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,
But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke;
A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee,
And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee. 40

He had a daintye lute under his arme,
He touched the strings, which made such a charme,
Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee,
Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.

With that his lute he twanged straightway, 45
And thereon begann most sweetlye to play;
And after that lessons were playd two or three,
He strayn'd out this song most delicatelìe.

"A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene,
Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene: 50
A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee,
And many one called her pretty Bessee.

"Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land.
But beggd for a penny all day with his hand;
And yett to her marriage hee gave thousands three,[573] 55
And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.

"And if any one here her birth doe disdaine,
Her father is ready, with might and with maine,
To proove shee is come of noble degree:
Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee." 60

With that the lords and the companye round
With harty laughter were readye to swound;
Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see,
The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.

On this the bride all blushing did rise, 65
The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes,
O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee,
That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.

If this be thy father, the nobles did say,
Well may he be proud of this happy day; 70
Yett by his countenance well may wee see,
His birth and his fortune did never agree:

And therfore, blind man, we pray thee bewray,
(And looke that the truth thou to us doe say)
Thy birth and thy parentage, what itt may bee; 75
For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee."

"Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,
One song more to sing, and then I have done;
And if that itt may not winn good report,
Then doe not give me a _groat_ for my sport. 80

"[Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee;
Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee,
Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase,
Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.

"When the barons in armes did king Henrye oppose,
Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose; 86
A leader of courage undaunted was hee,
And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.

"At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine[574]
The barons were routed, and Montfort was slaine; 90
Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee,
Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!

"Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde,
His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side,
Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight! 95
A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.

"Among the dead bodyes all lifelesse he laye,
Till evening drewe on of the following daye,
When by a yong ladye discoverd was hee;
And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee! 100

"A baron's faire daughter stept forth in the nighte
To search for her father, who fell in the fight,
And seeing yong Montfort, where gasping he laye,
Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.

"In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine, 105
While he throughe the realme was beleevd to be slaine:
At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee,
And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.

"And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye,
We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye; 110
Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee:
All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.]

"And here have wee lived in fortunes despite,
Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte:
Full forty winters thus have I beene 115
A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.

"And here, noble lordes, is ended the song
Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong:
And thus have you learned a secrette from mee,
That ne'er had beene knowne, but for prettye Bessee." 120

Now when the faire companye everye one,
Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne,
They all were amazed, as well they might bee,
Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.

With that the faire bride they all did embrace, 125
Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race,
Thy father likewise is of noble degree,
And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.

Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte,
A bridegroome most happy then was the young knighte, 130
In joy and felicitie long lived hee,
All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.

[***]

* * * * *

[The following stanzas (ll. 217-240 of the whole ballad), were rejected by Percy in favour of the verses above which are between brackets, and were written by Robert Dodsley, the bookseller and author:--

"When ffirst our king his ffame did Advance,
& fought for his title in delicate ffrance,
in many a place many perills past hee:
then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

"And then in those warres went over to fight
many a braue duke, a Lo_rd_, & a K_nigh_t,
& w_i_th them younge Mountford, his courage most free:
but then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

"Att Bloyes there chanced a terrible day,
where many braue ffrenchmen vpon the ground Lay;
amonge them Lay Mountford for companye:
but then was not borne my pretty Bessye.[575]

"But there did younge Mountford, by blow on the face,
loose both his eyes in a very short space;
& alsoe his liffe had beene gone w_i_th his sight,
had not a younge woman come forth in the night

"Amongst the slaine men, as fancy did moue,
to search & to seeke for her owne true loue;
& seeing young Mountford there gasping to bee,
shee saued his liffe through charitye.

"And then all our vittalls, in Beggar attire
att hands of good people wee then did require.
att last into England, as now it is seene,
wee came, & remained att Bednall greene."[576]

* * * * *

[+±+] The word _fit_ for _part_, often occurs in our ancient
ballads and metrical romances: which being divided into several
parts for the convenience of singing them at public entertainments,
were in the intervals of the feast sung by fits, or intermissions.
So Puttenham in his _Art of English Poesie_, 1589, says: "the
Epithalamie was divided by breaches into three partes to serve for
three several fits, or times to be sung." P. 41.

From the same writer we learn some curious particulars relative to
the state of ballad-singing in that age, that will throw light on
the present subject: speaking of the quick returns of one manner of
tune in the short measures used by common rhymers; these, he says,
"glut the eare, unless it be in small and popular musickes, sung
by these Cantabanqui, upon benches and barrels heads, where they
have none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes, that passe
by them in the streete; or else by _blind harpers_, or such like
taverne minstrels, that give a _fit_ of mirth for a _groat_, ...
their matter being for the most part stories of old time, as the
tale of _Sir Topas_, the reportes of _Bevis of Southampton_, _Guy
of Warwicke_, _Adam Bell and Clymme of the Clough_, and such other
old romances or historical rimes, made purposely for recreation
of the common people at Christmasse dinners and brideales, and in
tavernes and alehouses, and such other places of base resorte." P.
69.

This species of entertainment, which seems to have been handed down
from the ancient bards, was in the time of Puttenham falling into
neglect; but that it was not, even then, wholly excluded from more
genteel assemblies, he gives us room to infer from another passage:
"We ourselves," says this courtly[577] writer, "have written for
pleasure a little brief romance, or historical ditty in the English
tong of the _Isle of Great Britaine_ in short and long meetres, and
by breaches or divisions (_i.e._ fits), to be more commodiously
sung to the harpe in places of assembly, where the company shal
be desirous to heare of old adventures, and valiaunces of noble
knights in times past, as are those of _King Arthur and his
Knights of the Round Table_, _Sir Bevys of Southampton_, _Guy of
Warwicke_, and others like." P. 33.

In more ancient times no grand scene of festivity was compleat
without one of these reciters to entertain the company with
feats of arms, and tales of knighthood, or, as one of these old
minstrels says, in the beginning of an ancient romance on _Guy
and Colbronde_, in the Editor's folio MS. p. 349 [ed. Hales and
Furnivall, vol. ii., p. 527]:

"When meate and drinke is great plentyè,
And lords and ladyes still wil bee,
And sitt and solace lythe;[578]
Then itt is time for mee to speake
Of keene knightes, and kempès great,
Such carping for to kythe."

If we consider that a _groat_ in the age of Elizabeth was more than
equivalent to a shilling now, we shall find that the old harpers
were even then, when their art was on the decline, upon a far more
reputable footing than the ballad-singers of our time. The reciting
of one such ballad as this of the _Beggar of Bednal Green_, in
two parts, was rewarded with half-a-crown of our money. And that
they made a very respectable appearance, we may learn from the
dress of the old beggar, in the preceding ballad, p. 178, where
he comes into company in the habit and character of one of these
minstrels, being not known to be the bride's father till after
her speech, ver. 63. The exordium of his song, and his claiming a
groat for his reward, v. 76, are peculiarly characteristic of that
profession. Most of the old ballads begin in a pompous manner, in
order to captivate the attention of the audience, and induce them
to purchase a recital of the song: and they seldom conclude the
first part without large promises of still greater entertainment
in the second. This was a necessary piece of art to incline the
hearers to be at the expense of a second groat's-worth. Many of the
old romances extend to eight or nine fits, which would afford a
considerable profit to the reciter.

To return to the word _fit_; it seems at one time to have
peculiarly signified the pause, or breathing-time, between the
several parts (answering to Passus in the _Visions of Pierce
Plowman_): thus in the ancient ballad of _Chevy-Chase_ (vol. i. p.
27), the first part ends with this line:

"The first _fit_ here I fynde:"

_i.e._ here I come to the first pause or intermission. (See also
vol. i. p. 44.) By degrees it came to signify the whole part or
division preceding the pause. (See vol. i. pp. 162, 169.) This
sense it had obtained so early as the time of Chaucer; who thus
concludes the first part of his rhyme of _Sir Thopas_ (writ in
ridicule of the old ballad romances):--

"Lo! lordis mine, here is a _fitt_;
If ye woll any more of it,
To tell it woll I fonde."

The word _fit_ indeed appears originally to have signified a
poetic strain, verse, or poem; for in these senses it is used
by the Anglo-Saxon writers. Thus K. Ælfred in his _Boethius_,
having given a version of lib. 3, metr. 5, adds, [Uncial: Ða
[is]e p[i][is][id]om þa þa[is] [if][i][it][it]e a[is]un[gh]en
hæ[if][id]e], p. 65, _i.e._ "When wisdom had sung these (Fitts)
verses." And in the proem to the same book, [Uncial: Fon on
[if][i][it][it]e], "Put into (fitt) verse." So in Cedmon, p. 45.
[Uncial: Feon[id] on [if][i][it][it]e], seems to mean "composed a
song," or "poem." The reader will trace this old Saxon phrase, in
the application of the word _fond_, in the foregoing passage of
Chaucer.

Spencer has used the word fit to denote "a strain of music;" see
his poem, intitled, _Collin Clout's come home again_, where he
says:--

"The Shepherd of the ocean [Sir Walt. Raleigh]
Provoked me to play some pleasant _fit_.
And when he heard the music which I made
He found himself full greatlye pleas'd at it," &c.

It is also used in the old ballad of _K. Estmere_, vol. i. book 1,
No. 6, v. 243.

From being applied to music, this word was easily transferred to
dancing; thus in the old play of _Lusty Juventus_ (described in
preliminary note to book 2, No. 1 in this volume), Juventus says:

"By the masse I would fayne go daunce a _fitte_."

And from being used as a part or division in a ballad, poem, &c.
it is applied by Bale to a section or chapter in a book (though I
believe in a sense of ridicule or sarcasm), for thus he intitles
two chapters of his _English Votaryes_, part 2nd, viz. fol. 49,
"The fyrst _fytt_ of Anselme with Kynge Wyllyam Rufus;" fol. 50,
"An other _Fytt_ of Anselme with kynge Wyllyam Rufus."

FOOTNOTES:

[571] In the Editor's folio MS. it is _£_500.

[572] See an essay on the word _fit_ at the end of the second part.

[573] So the folio MS.

[574] The battle of Evesham was fought on August 4, 1265.

[575] [This stanza is not in the ordinary versions.]

[576] [Bessie of Bednall, Percy folio MS., ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 279.]

[577] He was one of Q. Elizabeth's gent. pensioners, at a time when the whole band consisted of men of distinguished birth and fortune. Vid. _Ath. Ox._

[578] Perhaps "blythe."

XI.

FANCY AND DESIRE.

BY THE EARL OF OXFORD.

Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, was in high fame for his poetical talents in the reign of Elizabeth; perhaps it is no injury to his reputation that few of his compositions are preserved for the inspection of impartial posterity. To gratify curiosity, we have inserted a sonnet of his, which is quoted with great encomiums for its "excellencie and wit," in Puttenham's _Arte of Eng. Poesie_,[579] and found intire in the _Garland of Good-will_. A few more of his sonnets (distinguished by the initial letters E. O.), may be seen in the _Paradise of Daintie Devises_. One of these is intitled _The Complaint of a Lover, wearing blacke and tawnie_. The only lines in it worth notice are these:--

"A crowne of baies shall that man 'beare'
Who triumphs over me;
For black and tawnie will I weare,
Which mourning colours be."

We find in Hall's _Chronicle_, that when Q. Catharine of Arragon dyed, Jan. 8, 1536, "Queen Anne (Bullen) ware _yellowe_ for the mourning." And when this unfortunate princess lost her head, May 19, the same year, "on the ascencion day following, the kyng for mourning ware _whyte_." Fol. 227, 228.

Edward, who was the seventeenth earl of Oxford, of the family of Vere, succeeded his father in his title and honours in 1563, and died an aged man in 1604. See Mr. Walpole's _Noble Authors_. Athen. Oxon, &c.

* * * * *

[Walpole was in error when he stated that Lord Oxford died an
aged man, for that nobleman was only about sixty at the time of
his death. Sir Egerton Brydges points out in his edition of the
_Paradise of Dainty Devices_ (_British Bibliographer_, vol. iii.),
that the earl could not have been born earlier than 1540 or 1541,
because his elder half-sister Katherine, widow of Edward, Lord
Windsor, died in January, 1599, aged 60. The chief events of his
life are these. In 1585 he was the chief of those who embarked with
the Earl of Leicester for the relief of the states of Holland and
Zealand. In 1586 he sat as Lord Great Chamberlain of England on
the trial of Mary, Queen of Scots. In 1588 he hired and fitted out
ships at his own charge against the Spanish Armada. In 1589 he sat
on the trial of Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, and in 1601 on the
trials of the Earls of Essex and Southampton. His private character
was far from good, and his honour was tarnished by his dispute
with Sir Philip Sidney. He used his first wife (a daughter of the
great Burleigh) cruelly, in revenge for the statesman's treatment
of his great friend, Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. In his early youth
he travelled in Italy, and returned from that country a finished
coxcomb, bringing home with him Italian dresses, perfumes, and
embroidered gloves. He presented a pair of the latter to Queen
Elizabeth, who was so pleased with them that she was drawn with
them on her hands. The earl was buried at Hackney, on the 6th of
July, 1604.

Percy might have spared rather more praise for this pretty little
poem.]

* * * * *

Come hither shepherd's swayne:
"Sir, what do you require?"
I praye thee, shewe to me thy name.
"My name is Fond Desire."

When wert thou borne, Desire? 5
"In pompe and pryme of may."
By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot?
"By fond Conceit men say."

Tell me, who was thy nurse?
"Fresh Youth in sugred joy." 10
What was thy meate and dayly foode?
"Sad sighes with great annoy."

What hadst thou then to drinke?
"Unsavoury lovers teares."
What cradle wert thou rocked in? 15
"In hope devoyde of feares."

What lulld thee then asleepe?
"Sweete speech, which likes me best."
Tell me, where is thy dwelling place?
"In gentle hartes I rest." 20

What thing doth please thee most?
"To gaze on beautye stille."
Whom dost thou thinke to be thy foe?
"Disdayn of my good wille."

Doth companye displease? 25
"Yes, surelye, many one."
Where doth Desire delighte to live?
"He loves to live alone."

Doth either tyme or age
Bringe him unto decaye? 30
"No, no, Desire both lives and dyes
Ten thousand times a daye."

Then, fond Desire, farewelle,
Thou art no mate for mee;
I sholde be lothe, methinkes, to dwelle 35
With such a one as thee.

FOOTNOTES:

[579] Lond. 1589, p. 172.

XII.

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

I cannot give a better relation of the fact which is the subject of the following ballad, than in an extract from the late Mr. Guthrie's _Peerage_,[580] which was begun upon a very elegant plan, but never finished. Vol. i. 4to. p. 22.

"The transaction which did the greatest honour to the earl of Surrey[581] and his family at this time (A.D. 1511), was their behaviour in the case of Barton, a Scotch sea-officer. This gentleman's father having suffered by sea from the Portuguese, he had obtained letters of marque for his two sons to make reprisals upon the subjects of Portugal. It is extremely probable, that the court of Scotland granted these letters with no very honest intention. The council board of England, at which the earl of Surrey held the chief place, was daily pestered with complaints from the sailors and merchants, that Barton, who was called Sir Andrew Barton, under pretence of searching for Portuguese goods, interrupted the English navigation. Henry's situation at that time rendered him backward from breaking with Scotland, so that their complaints were but coldly received. The earl of Surrey, however, could not smother his indignation, but gallantly declared at the council board, that while he had an estate that could furnish out a ship, or a son that was capable of commanding one, the narrow seas should not be infested.

"Sir Andrew Barton, who commanded the two Scotch ships, had the reputation of being one of the ablest sea officers of his time. By his depredations, he had amassed great wealth, and his ships were very richly laden. Henry, notwithstanding his situation, could not refuse the generous offer made by the earl of Surrey. Two ships were immediately fitted out, and put to sea with letters of marque, under his two sons, Sir Thomas[582] and Sir Edward Howard. After encountering a great deal of foul weather, Sir Thomas came up with the 'Lion,' which was commanded by Sir Andrew Barton in person; and Sir Edward came up with the 'Union,' Barton's other ship (called by Hall, the 'Bark of Scotland.') The engagement which ensued was extremely obstinate on both sides; but at last the fortune of the Howards prevailed. Sir Andrew was killed fighting bravely, and encouraging his men with his whistle, to hold out to the last; and the two Scotch ships with their crews, were carried into the river Thames. (Aug. 2, 1511.)

"This exploit had the more merit, as the two English commanders were in a manner volunteers in the service, by their father's order. But it seems to have laid the foundation of Sir Edward's fortune; for, on the 7th of April, 1512, the king constituted him (according to Dugdale) admiral of England, Wales, &c.

"King James 'insisted' upon satisfaction for the death of Barton, and capture of his ship: tho' Henry had generously dismissed the crews, and even agreed that the parties accused might appear in his courts of admiralty by their attornies, to vindicate themselves." This affair was in a great measure the cause of the battle of Flodden, in which James IV. lost his life.

In the following ballad will be found perhaps some few deviations from the truth of history; to atone for which it has probably recorded many lesser facts, which history hath not condescended to relate. I take many of the little circumstances of the story to be real, because I find one of the most unlikely to be not very remote from the truth. In pt. 2, v. 156, it is said, that England had before "but two ships of war." Now the "Great Harry" had been built only seven years before, viz. in 1504: which "was properly speaking the first ship in the English navy. Before this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no other expedient but hiring ships from the merchants."--Hume.

This ballad, which appears to have been written in the reign of Elizabeth, has received great improvements from the Editor's folio MS. wherein was an ancient copy, which, though very incorrect, seemed in many respects superior to the common ballad; the latter being evidently modernized and abridged from it. The following text is, however, in some places amended and improved by the latter (chiefly from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection), as also by conjecture.

* * * * *

[There is little to be added to the above preface, but those who
wish to read the Scottish version will find John Lesley's (Bishop
of Ross) account of the affair (_Historie of Scotland_, 1436-1561),
quoted in Mr. Furnivall's full preface to the ballad in the folio
MS. (vol. iii. p. 399). Percy fully explains how he made up his
copy. There is, in fact, hardly a line that has not been altered,
and the notes at the foot of the page give the reader no idea of
the changes that have been made. To have noted all the differences
would have loaded the page unnecessarily, and therefore in
consideration of the interest of the ballad, a reprint of the folio
copy has been added, although there are several printed copies. It
is difficult to understand what could have induced Percy to reject
the pretty lines:

"As itt beffell in Midsummer time
When burds singe sweetlye on every tree,"

for the incongruous opening of Flora with her flowers, and Neptune
with his showers. The greatest alterations are in vv. 33-40,
129-136; part 2, vv. 1-8, 17-64, 89-94, 113-120, 145-176.]

* * * * *

THE FIRST PART.

When Flora with her fragrant flowers
'Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,
'And Neptune with his daintye showers
'Came to present the monthe of Maye;'[583]
King Henrye rode to take the ayre, 5
Over the river of Thames past hee;
When eighty merchants of London came,
And downe they knelt upon their knee.

"O yee are welcome, rich merchànts;
Good saylors, welcome unto mee." 10
They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
But rich merchànts they cold not bee:
"To France nor Flanders dare we pass:
Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare;
And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,[584] 15
Who robbs us of our merchant ware."

King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde,
And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,
"I thought he had not beene in the world,
Durst have wrought England such unright." 20
The merchants sighed, and said, alas!
And thus they did their answer frame,
He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,
And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name.

The king lookt over his left shouldèr, 25
And an angrye look then looked hee:
"Have I never a lorde in all my realme,
Will feitch yond traytor unto mee?"
Yea, that dare I; lord Howard sayes;[585]
Yea, that dare I with heart and hand; 30
If it please your grace to give me leave,
Myselfe wil be the only man.

Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed:
Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare.
"Trust me, my liege, Ile make him quail, 35
Or before my prince I will never appeare."
Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,
And chuse them over my realme so free;
Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,
To guide the great shipp on the sea. 40

The first man, that lord Howard chose,
Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten:
Good Peter Simon was his name.
Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea, 45
To bring home a traytor live or dead:
Before all others I have chosen thee;
Of a hundred gunners to be the head.

If you, my lord, have chosen mee
Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 50
Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,
If I misse my marke one shilling bread.[586]
My lord then chose a boweman rare,
Whose active hands had gained fame.[587]
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, 55
And William Horseley was his name.[588]

Horseley, sayd he, I must with speede
Go seeke a traytor on the sea,
And now of a hundred bowemen brave
To be the head I have chosen thee. 60
If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee
Of a hundred bowemen to be the head;
On your maine-màst Ile hanged bee,
If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.[586]

With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold, 65
This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
Out at Thames mouth sayled he.
And days he scant had sayled three,
Upon the 'voyage' he tooke in hand,[589] 70
But there he mett with a noble shipp,
And stoutely made itt stay and stand.

Thou must tell me, lord Howard said,
Now who thou art, and what's thy name;
And shewe me where thy dwelling is: 75
And whither bound, and whence thou came.
My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee
With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind;
I and my shipp doe both belong
To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne. 80

Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,
As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,
Of a Scottish rover on the seas;[584]
Men call him sir Andrew Barton, knight?
Then ever he sighed, and sayd alas! 85
With a grieved mind, and well away!
But over-well I knowe that wight,
I was his prisoner yesterday.

As I was sayling uppon the sea,
A Burdeaux voyage for to fare; 90
To his hach-borde he clasped me,[590]
And robd me of all my merchant ware:
And mickle debts, Got wot, I owe,
And every man will have his owne;
And I am nowe to London bounde, 95
Of our gracious king to beg a boone.

That shall not need, lord Howard sais;
Lett me but once that robber see,
For every penny tane thee froe
It shall be doubled shillings three. 100
Nowe God forefend, the merchant said,
That you shold seek soe far amisse!
God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.

Hee is brasse within, and steele without, 105
With beames on his topcastle stronge;
And eighteen pieces of ordinance
He carries on each side along:
And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,[591]
St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide; 110
His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
And fifteen canons on each side.

Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one;
I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall;
He wold overcome them everye one, 115
If once his beames they doe downe fall.[592]
This is cold comfort, sais my lord,
To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea:
Yet Ile bring him and his shipp to shore,
Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee. 120

Then a noble gunner you must have,
And he must aim well with his ee,
And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
Or else hee never orecome will bee:
And if you chance his shipp to borde, 125
This counsel I must give withall,
Let no man to his topcastle goe
To strive to let his beams downe fall.

And seven pieces of ordinance,
I pray your honour lend to mee, 130
On each side of my shipp along,
And I will lead you on the sea.
A glasse Ile sett, that may be seene,
Whether you sayle by day or night,
And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke 135
You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.

* * * * *

THE SECOND PART.

The merchant sett my lorde a glasse
Soe well apparent in his sight,
And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke,
He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold,[593] 5
Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee:
Nowe by my faith, lord Howarde sais,
This is a gallant sight to see.

Take in your ancyents,[594] standards eke,
So close that no man may them see; 10
And put me forth a white willowe wand,
As merchants use to sayle the sea.
But they stirred neither top, nor mast;[595]
Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by.
What English churles are yonder, he sayd, 15
That can soe litle curtesye?

Now by the roode, three yeares and more
I have beene admirall over the sea;
And never an English nor Portingall
Without my leave can passe this way. 20
Then called he forth his stout pinnàce;
"Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee:
I sweare by the masse, yon English churles
Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."

With that the pinnace itt shott off, 25
Full well lord Howard might it ken;
For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,
And killed fourteen of his men.
Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord,
Looke that thy word be true, thou said; 30
For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang,
If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.

Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold.
His ordinance he laid right lowe;
He put in chaine full nine yardes long,[596] 35
With other great shott lesse, and moe;
And he lette goe his great gunnes shott;
Soe well he settled itt with his ee,
The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 40

And when he saw his pinnace sunke,
Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!
"Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon;
Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell."
When my Lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, 45
Within his heart hee was full faine:
"Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up drummes,
Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais,
Weale howsoever this geere will sway; 50
Itt is my lord admirall of Englànd,
Is come to seeke mee on the sea.
Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,
That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
In att his decke he gave a shott, 55
Killed threescore of his men of warre.

Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott
Came bravely on the other side,
Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,
And killed fourscore men beside. 60
Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed,
What may a man now thinke, or say?
Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,
He was my prisoner yesterday.

Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, 65
That aye wast readye att my call;
I will give thee three hundred markes,[597]
If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.
Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,
"Horseley see thou be true in stead; 70
For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,
If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."

Then Gordon swarved[598] the maine-mast tree,
He swarved it with might and maine;
But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,[599] 75
Stroke the Gordon through the braine;
And he fell unto the haches again,
And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
Then word went through Sir Andrews men,
How that the Gordon hee was dead. 80

Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,
Thou art my only sisters sonne,
If thou wilt let my beames downe fall,
Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne.
With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, 85
He swarved it with nimble art;
But Horseley with a broad arròwe
Pierced the Hambilton through the heart:

And downe he fell upon the deck,
That with his blood did streame amaine: 90
Then every Scott cryed, Well-away!
Alas a comelye youth is slaine!
All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,
With griefe and rage his heart did swell:
"Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, 95
For I will to the topcastle mysell.

"Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
That gilded is with gold soe cleare:
God be with my brother John of Barton!
Against the Portingalls hee it ware; 100
And when he had on this armour of proofe,
He was a gallant sight to see:
Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,
My deere brothèr, could cope with thee."

Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord, 105
And looke your shaft that itt goe right,
Shoot a good shoote in time of need,
And for it thou shalt be made a knight.
Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,
Your honour shall see, with might and maine; 110
But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,
I have now left but arrowes twaine.

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
With right good will he swarved then:
Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, 115
But the arrow bounded back agen.
Then Horseley spyed a privye place
With a perfect eye in a secrette part;
Under the spole[600] of his right arme
He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 120

"Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes,
A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
Ile but lye downe and bleede a while,
And then Ile rise and fight againe.
Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes, 125
And never flinche before the foe;
And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse
Untill you heare my whistle blowe."[601]

They never heard his whistle blow,----
Which made their hearts waxe sore adread: 130
Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord,
For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.
They boarded then his noble shipp,
They boarded it with might and maine;
Eighteen score Scots alive they found, 135
The rest were either maimed or slaine.

Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,
And off he smote Sir Andrewes head;
"I must have left England many a daye,
If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 140
He caused his body to be cast
Over the hatchbord into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes:
"Wherever thou land this will bury thee."

Thus from the warres lord Howard came, 145
And backe he sayled ore the maine,
With mickle joy and triumphìng
Into Thames mouth he came againe.
Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
And sealed it with seale and ring; 150
"Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,
As never did subject to a king.

"Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;
A braver shipp was never none:
Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, 155
Before in England was but one."
King Henryes grace with royall cheere
Welcomed the noble Howard home,
And where, said he, is this rover stout,
That I myselfe may give the doome? 160

"The rover, he is safe, my leige,
Full many a fadom in the sea;
If he were alive as he is dead,
I must have left England many a day:
And your grace may thank four men i' the ship 165
For the victory wee have wonne,
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,
And Peter Simon, and his sonne."

To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,
In lieu of what was from thee tane, 170
A noble a day now thou shalt have,
Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.
And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,
And lands and livings shalt have store;
Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,[602] 175
As Howards erst have beene before.[602]

Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,
I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:
And the men shall have five hundred markes
For the good service they have done. 180
Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
They weend that hee were brought on shore,
And thought to have seen a gallant sight.

But when they see his deadlye face, 185
And eyes soe hollow in his head,
I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,
This man were alive as hee is dead:
Yett for the manfull part hee playd,
Which fought soe well with heart and hand, 190
His men shall have twelvepence a day,
Till they come to my brother kings high land.

[***]

* * * * *

[The following version is reprinted from Hales and Furnivall's
edition of the folio MS., vol. iii. p. 403:--

As: itt beffell in M[i]dsumer time
when burds singe sweetlye on euery tree,
our noble King, King Henery the 8^{th},
ouer the riuer of Thames past hee. 4
hee was no sooner ouer the riuer,
downe in a fforrest to take the ayre,
but 80 merchants of London cittye
came kneeling before King Henery there: 8

"O yee are welcome, rich merchants,
[Good saylors, welcome unto me!"]
they swore by the rood thé were saylers good,
but rich merchants they cold not bee; 12
"to ffrance nor fflanders dare we nott passe,
nor Burdeaux voyage wee dare not ffare,
& all ffor a ffalse robber that lyes on the seas,
& robb vs of our merchants ware." 16

King Henery was stout, & he turned him about,
& swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,
"I thought he had not beene in the world throughout,
that durst haue wrought England such vnright." 20
but euer they sighed, and said--alas!--
vnto King Harry this answere againe
"he is a proud Scott that will robb vs all
if wee were 20 shipps and hee but one." 24

The King looket ouer his left shoulder,
amongst his Lords & Barrons soe ffree:
"haue I neuer Lord in all my realme
will ffeitch yond traitor vnto mee?" 28
"yes, that dare I!" sayes my Lord Chareles Howard,
neere to the King wheras hee did stand;
"If that your grace will giue me leaue,
my selfe wilbe the only man." 32

"thou shalt haue 600 men," saith our King,
"& chuse them out of my realme soe ffree;
besids Marriners and boyes,
to guide the great shipp on the sea." 36
"Ile goe speake with Sir Andrew," sais Charles, my Lord Haward;
"vpon the sea, if hee be there,
I will bring him & his shipp to shore,
or before my prince I will neuer come neere." 40

the ffirst of all my Lord did call,
a noble gunner hee was one;
this man was 60 yeeres and ten,
& Peeter Simon was his name. 44
"Peeter," sais hee, "I must sayle to the sea
to seeke out an enemye; god be my speed!
before all others I haue chosen thee;
of a 100^{d}. guners thoust be my head." 48

"my Lord," sais hee," if you haue chosen mee
of a 100^{d}. gunners to be the head,
hange me att your maine-mast tree
if I misse my marke past 3 pence bread." 52
The next of all my Lord he did call,
a noble bowman hee was one;
In yorekeshire was this gentleman borne,
& william Horsley was his name. 56

"Horsley," sayes hee, "I must sayle to the sea
to seeke out an enemye; god be my speede!
before all others I haue chosen thee;
of a 100 bowemen thoust be my head." 60
"My Lord," sais hee," if you haue chosen mee
of a 100^{d}. bowemen to be they head,
hang me att your mainemast tree
if I misse my marke past 12^{d}. bread." 64

with pikes, and gunnes, & bowemen bold,
this Noble Howard is gone to the sea
on the day before Midsummer euen,
& out att Thames mouth sayled they. 68
They had not sayled dayes 3
vpon their Iourney they tooke in hand,
but there they mett with a Noble shipp,
& stoutely made itt both stay & stand. 72

"thou must tell me thy name," sais Charles, my Lord Haward,
"or who thou art, or ffrom whence thou came,
yea, & where thy dwelling is,
to whom & where thy shipp does belong." 76
"My name," sayes hee," is Henery Hunt,
with a pure hart & a penitent mind;
I and my shipp they doe belong
vnto the New castle that stands vpon tine." 80

"Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt,
as thou hast sayled by day & by night,
hast thou not heard of a stout robber?
men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight." 84
but euer he sighed, & sayd, "alas!
ffull well, my Lord, I know that wight!
he robd me of my merchants ware,
& I was his prisoner but yesternight. 88

"as I was sayling vppon the sea,
& Burdeaux voyage as I did ffare,
he Clasped me to his Archborde
& robd me of all my merchants ware; 92
& I am a man both poore & bare,
& euery man will haue his owne of me,
& I am bound towards London to ffare,
to complaine to my Prince Henerye." 96

"that shall not need," sais my Lord Haward;
"if thou canst lett me this robber see,
ffor euery peny he hath taken thee ffroe,
thou shalt be rewarded a shilling," quoth hee. 100
"Now god ffore-fend," saies Henery Hunt,
"my Lord, you shold worke soe ffarr amisse!
god keepe you out of that Traitors hands!
for you wott ffull litle what a man hee is. 104

"hee is brasse within, & steele without,
& beanes hee beares in his Topcastle stronge;
his shipp hath ordinance cleane round about;
besids, my Lord, hee is verry well mand; 108
he hath a pinnace is deerlye dight,
Saint Andrews crosse, that is his guide;
his pinnace beares 9 score men & more,
besids 15 cannons on euery side. 112

"if you were 20 shippes, & he but one,
either in charke-bord or in hall,
he wold ouercome you euerye one,
& if his beanes they doe downe ffall." 116

"this is cold comfort," sais my Lord Haward,
"to wellcome a stranger thus to the sea;
He bring him & his shipp to shore,
or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee." 120

"then you must gett a noble gunner, my Lord,
that can sett well with his eye
& sinke his pinnace into the sea,
& soone then ouercome will hee bee 124
& when that you haue done this,
if you chance Sir Andrew for to bord,
lett no man to his Topcastle goe;
& I will giue you a glasse, my Lord, 128

"& then you need to fferae no Scott,
whether you sayle by day or by night;
& to-morrow by 7 of the clocke,
you shall meete with Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight. 132
I was his prisoner but yester night,
& he hath taken mee sworne;" quoth hee,
"I trust my L[ord] god will me fforgiue
& if that oath then broken bee. 136

"you must lend me sixe peeces, my Lord," quoth hee,
"into my shipp to sayle the sea,
& to-morrow by 9 of the clocke
your honour againe then will I see." 140
And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew Lay,
is hached with gold deerlye dight:
"now by my ffaith," sais Charles, my Lord Haward,
"then yonder Scott is a worthye wight!" 144

{ Take in your ancyents & your standards,
2^{d}. parte { yea that no man shall them see,
{ & put me fforth a white willow wand,
{ as Merchants vse to sayle the sea. 148
But they stirred neither top nor mast,
but Sir Andrew they passed by.
"whatt English are yonder," said Sir Andrew,
"that can so litle curtesye? 152

"I haue beene Admirall ouer the sea
more then these yeeres three;
there is neuer an English dog, nor Portingall,
can passe this way without leaue of mee. 156
But now yonder pedlers, they are past,
which is no litle greffe to me:
ffeich them backe," sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
"they shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." 160

with that they pinnace itt shott of,
that my Lord Haward might itt well ken,
itt strokes downe my Lords fforemast,
& killed 14 of my Lord his men. 164
"come hither, Simon!" sayes my Lord Haward,
"looke that thy words be true thou sayd;
Ile hang thee att my maine-mast tree
if thou misse thy marke past 12^d. bread." 168

Simon was old, but his hart itt was bold,
hee tooke downe a peece, & layd itt ffull lowe;
he put in chaine yeards 9,
besids other great shott lesse and more. 172
with that hee lett his gun shott goe;
soe well hee settled itt with his eye,
the ffirst sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
hee see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 176

when hee saw his pinace sunke,
Lord! in his hart hee was not well:
"cutt my ropes! itt is time to be gon!
Ile goe ffeitch yond pedlers backe my selfe!" 180
when my Lord Haward saw Sir Andrew loose,
lord! in his hart that hee was ffaine:
"strike on your drummes, spread out your ancyents!
sound out your trumpetts! sound out amaine!" 184

"ffight on, my men!" sais Sir Andrew Bartton;
"weate, howsoeuer this geere will sway,
itt is my Lord Adm[i]rall of England
is come to seeke mee on the sea." 188
Simon had a sonne, with shott of a gunn,--
well Sir Andrew might itt Ken,--
he shott itt in att a priuye place,
& killed 60 more of Sir Andrews men. 192

Harry Hunt came in att the other syde,
& att Sir Andrew hee shott then,
he droue downe his fformost tree,
& killed 80 more of Sir Andirwes men. 196
"I haue done a good turne," sayes Harry Hunt,
"Sir Andrew is not our Kings ffreind;
he hoped to haue vndone me yesternight,
but I hope I haue quitt him well in the end." 200

"Euer alas!" sayd Sir Andrew Barton,
"what shold a man either thinke or say?
yonder ffalse theeffe is my strongest Enemye,
who was my prisoner but yesterday. 204
come hither to me, thou Gourden good,
& be thou readye att my call,
& I will giue thee 300^{li}.
if thou wilt lett my beanes downe ffall." 208

with that hee swarned the maine-mast tree,
soe did he itt with might and maine:
Horseley with a bearing arrow
stroke the Gourden through the braine, 212
And he ffell into the haches againe,
& sore of this wound that he did bleed.
then word went throug Sir Andrews men,
that they Gourden hee was dead. 216

"come hither to me, Iames Hambliton,--
thou art my sisters sonne, I haue no more,--
I will giue [thee] 600^{li}.
If thou will lett my beanes downe ffall." 220
with that hee swarned the maine-mast tree,
soe did hee itt with might and maine:
Horseley with an-other broad Arrow
strake the yeaman through the braine, 224

that hee ffell downe to the haches againe:
sore of his wound that hee did bleed.
itt is verry true, as the welchman sayd,
couetousness getts no gaine. 228
but when hee saw his sisters sonne slaine,
Lord! in his heart hee was not well.
"goe ffeitch me downe my armour of proue,
ffor I will to the topcastle my-selfe. 232

goe ffeitch me downe my armour of prooffe,
for itt is guilded with gold soe cleere.
god be with my brother, Iohn of Bartton!
amongst the Portingalls hee did itt weare." 236
but when hee had his armour of prooffe,
& on his body hee had itt on,
euery man that looked att him
sayd, "gunn nor arrow hee neede feare none!" 240

"come hither, Horsley!" sayes my Lord Haward,
"& looke your shaft that itt goe right;
shoot a good shoote in the time of need,
& ffor thy shooting thoust be made a Knight." 244
"Ile doe my best," sayes Horslay then,
"your honor shall see beffore I goe;
if I shold be hanged att your mainemast,
I haue in my shipp but arrowes tow." 248

but att Sir Andrew hee shott then;
hee made sure to hitt his marke;
vnder the spole of his right arme
hee smote Sir Andrew quite throw the hart. 252
yett ffrom the tree hee wold not start,
but hee clinged to itt with might & maine.
vnder the coller then of his Iacke,
he stroke Sir Andrew thorrow the braine. 256

"ffight on my men," sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
"I am hurt, but I am not slaine;
Ile lay mee downe & bleed a-while,
& then Ile rise & ffight againe. 260
ffight on my men," sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
"these English doggs they bite soe lowe;
ffight on ffor Scottland & Saint Andrew
till you heare my whistle blowe!" 264

but when thé cold not heare his whistle blow,
sayes Harry Hunt, "Ile lay my head
you may bord yonder noble shipp, my Lord,
for I know Sir Andrew hee is dead." 268
with that they borded this noble shipp,
soe did they itt with might & maine;
thé ffound 18 score Scotts aliue,
besids the rest were maimed & slaine. 272

My Lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand,
& smote of Sir Andrews head.
the Scotts stood by, did weepe & mourne,
but neuer a word durst speake or say. 276
he caused his body to be taken downe,
& ouer the hatch-bord cast into the sea,
& about his middle 300 crownes:
"wheresoeuer thou lands, itt will bury thee." 280

with his head they sayled into England againe
with right good will & fforce & meanye,
& the day beffore New yeeres euen
& into Thames mouth againe they came. 284
My Lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes grace,
with all the newes hee cold him bring:
"such a new yeeres gifft I haue brought to your gr[ace],
As neuer did subiect to any King. 288