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Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he sayd,
And riddle us both as one;
And let the browne girl alone?
Faire Ellinor she has got none,
To bring me the browne girl home.
As many there are beside,
That should have been his bride.
And when he came to faire Ellinors bower,
He knocked there at the ring,
20 What newes,
what newes, lord Thomas, she sayd ?
And that is bad newes for thee.
25 That such a thing should be done; I thought to have been the bride my selfe,
And thou to have been the bridegrome.
30 Whether I shall goe to lord Thomas his wedding,
Or whether shall tarry at home?
And manye a one your foe, Vor. 29. It should probably be, Reade me, read, &c., 1. e. Advise me,
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
To lord Thomas his wedding don't goe.
There are manye that are my friendes, mothèr;
But were every one my foe, Betide me life, betide me death,
To lord Thomas his wedding I'ld goe.
She cloathed herself in gallant attire,
And her merrye men all in greene; And as they rid through every towne,
They took her to be some queene.
But when she came to lord Thomas his gate,
She knocked there at the ring;
To lett faire Ellinor in.
Is this your bride? fair Ellinor sayd,
Methinks she looks wonderous browne; Thou mightest have had as faire a woman,
As ever trod on the grounde.
Despise her not, fair Ellin, he sayd,
Despise her not unto mee;
Than all her whole bodèe.
This browne bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharpe,
She prick'd faire Ellinor's harte.
O Christ thee save, lord Thomas, hee sayd,
Methinks thou lookst wonderous wan; Thou usedst to look with as fresh a colour,
As ever the sun shone on. Percy. III.
Oh, art thou blind, lord Thomas ? she sayd,'
Or canst thou not very well see?
Run trickling down my knee.
As he walked about the halle,
And threw it against the walle.
And the point against his harte.
That sooner againe did parte.
*** The reader will find a Scottish song on a similar subject to this, below (book iïi. no. iv.) entitled, Lord Thomas and Lady Annet.
Cupid and Campaspe. Tais elegant little sonnet is found in the third act of an old play, entitled, Alexander and Campaspe, written by John Lilye, a celebrated writer in the time of Queen Elizabeth. That play was first printed in 1591; but this copy is given from a later edition.
Curid and my Campaspe playd
With these, the crystal of his browe,
O Love! has she done this to thee?
XVII. The Lady turned Serving-Wan, Is given from a written copy, containing some improvements (perhaps modern ones) upon the popular ballad, entitled, “The famous flower of Serving-men; or, the Lady turned Serving-man.”
You beauteous ladyes, great and small,
I was by birth a lady faire,
And there my love built me a bower,
true-love did build for mee.
And there I livde a ladye gay,
They came upon us in the night,
Yet though my heart was full of care,