"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, "For thirty pence our Saviour was sold 80 Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told: And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke thou art one penny worser than hee." The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,2 85 "I did not think I had been worth so littel! -Now secondly tell mee, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about." "You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same Until the next morning he riseth againe; 90 And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about." The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, "I did not think it could be gone so soone! -Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, 95 But tell me here truly what I do thinke." “Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry; You thinke I'm the Abbot of Canterbury; But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.' 100 The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, "Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee, 105 VOL. II. 2 Meaning probably St. Botolph. VII. You Meaner Beauties. This little sonnet was written by Sir Henry Wotton, Knight, on that amiable princess, Elizabeth, daughter of James I. and wife of the Elector Palatine, who was chosen King of Bohemia, Sep. 5, 1619. The consequences of this fatal election are well known: Sir Henry Wotton, who in that and the following year was employed in several embassies in Germany on behalf of this unfortunate lady, seems to have had an uncommon attachment to her merit and fortunes, for he gave away a jewel worth a thousand pounds, that was presented to him by the emperor, because it came from an enemy to his royal mistress the Queen of Bohemia."-See Biogr. Britan. 66 This song is printed from the Reliquiæ Wottonianæ 1651, with some corrections from an old MS. copy. You meaner beauties of the night, More by your number than your light, You common-people of the skies, What are you when the moon shall rise? 5 Ye violets that first appeare, By your pure purple mantles known, Ye curious chaunters of the wood, By your weak accents, what's your praise So when my mistris shal be seene In sweetnesse of her looks and minde, Th' eclypse and glory of her kind? 1C 15 20 VIII. The Old and Young Courtier. This excellent old song, the subject of which is a comparison between the manners of the old gentry, as still subsisting in the times of Elizabeth, and the modern refinements affected by their sons in the reigns of her successors, is given, with corrections, from an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, compared with another printed among some miscellaneous " poems and songs" in a book entitled Le Prince d'Amour, 1660, 8vo. An old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a greate estate, And the queen's old courtier. With an old lady, whose anger one word asswages, But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges; With an old study fill'd full of learned old books, With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks; With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks, And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old cooks; Like an old courtier, &c. With an old hall hung about with pikes, guns and bows, With old swords and bucklers that had borne many shrewde blows, And an old frize coat to cover his worship's trunk hose, And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose; Like an old courtier, &c. With a good old fashion, when Christmasse was come, And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man dumb With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds, Like an old courtier, &c. But to his eldest son his house and land he assign'd, But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclin'd ; And the king's young courtier. Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land, Like a young courtier, &c. With a new-fangled lady that is dainty, nice and spare, care, Who buyes gaudy-color'd fans to play with wanton air, And seven or eight different dressings of other womens hair; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new-fashion'd hall, built where the old one stood, With a fine marble chimney wherein burns neither coal nor wood, And a new smooth shovelboard whereon no victuals ne'er stood; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new study, stuft full of pamphlets and plays, With a new buttery hatch that opens once in four or five days, And a new French cook to devise fine kickshaws and toys; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new fashion when Christmas is drawing on, On a new journey to London straight we all must begone, And leave none to keep house but our new porter John, Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back with a stone; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new gentleman-usher, whose carriage is compleat, With a new coachman, footman and pages to carry up the meat, With a waiting-gentlewoman, whose dressing is very neat, Who, when her lady has din'd, lets the servants not eat; Like a young courtier, &c. With new titles of honour bought with his father's old gold, |