Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit, 25 30 From a convenient place, the right duke, his good grace, To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait, Trumpets sounding before him: thought he, this is great: A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests; In a rich chair ‘or bed,' lin’d with fine crimson red, 35 40 While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, 45 From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain, 50 For his glory to him' so pleasant did seem, 55 That he thought it to be but a meer golden dream; 'T'ill at length he was brought to the duke, where he sought 60 Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak, Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command? Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace; 65 70 XVIII. The Friar of Orders Gray. Dispersed through Shakspeare's plays are innumerable little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which could not be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity, the Editor was tempted to select some of them, and with a few supplemental stanzas to connect them together, and form them into a little Tale, which is here submitted to the reader's candour. One small fragment was taken from Beaumont and Fletcher. It was a friar of orders gray Walkt forth to tell his beades; And he met with a lady faire Clad in a pilgrime's weedes. “Now Christ thee save thou reverend friar, I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My true love thou didst see." 5 "And how should I know your true love 10 From many another one? "O, by his cockle hat and staff, And by his sandal shoone.1 1 These are the distinguishing marks of a Pilgrim. The chief places of devotion being beyond sea, the pilgrims were wont to put cockle-shells in their hats to denote the intention or performance of their devotion.— Warb. Shaksp. vol. viii. p. 224. VOL. I. For thee I only wisht to live, 66 For thee I wish to dye." Weep no more, lady, weep no more, For violets pluckt the sweetest showers N 45 "Our joyes as winged dreams doe flye, 50 Will he ne'er come again? Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave, For ever to remain. 60 "Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, And left thee sad and heavy; 70 For young men ever were fickle found, Since summer trees were leafy." "Now say not so, thou holy friar, I pray thee say not soe; My love he had the truest heart: O he was ever true! "And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth, And didst thou dye for me? Then farewell home; for ever-more A pilgrim I will bee. 75 80 "But first upon my true-love's grave My weary limbs I'll lay, And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf, That wraps his breathless clay." 85 "Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile Beneath this cloyster wall: See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall." * Is not yet passed away, No longer would I stay." "Now farewell grief, and welcome joy For since I have found thee, lovely youth, We never more will part.' 2 The year of probation, or noviciate. 105 As the foregoing song has been thought to have suggested to our late excellent poet, Dr. Goldsmith, the plan of his beautiful ballad of Edwin and Emma (first printed in his Vicar of Wakefield), it is but justice to his memory to declare, that his poem was written first, and that if there is any imitation in the case, they will be found both to be indebted to the beautiful old ballad, Gentle Herdsman, &c., printed in book fourth of this work, which the Doctor had much admired in manuscript, and has finely improved.—See vol. i. book iv. song xiv. ver. 37, &c. END OF THE SECOND BOOK. |