Will you buy any tape,

Or lace for your cape,

My dainty duck, my dear-a?

Any silk, any thread,

Any toys for your head,

Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a?

Come to the pedlar ;

Money's a medler

That doth utter all men's ware-a.

XXX

BACCHANALIAN SONG

COME, thou Monarch of the vine,

Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!

In thy fats our cares be drown'd,

With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd:

Cup us, till the world go round,

Cup us, till the world go round !

XXXI

A COUNTRY FELLOW'S SONG

O nothing but eat, and make good cheer,

D°

And praise God for the merry year ; When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily,

And ever among so merrily.

Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;

'Tis

For women are shrews, both short and tall:
merry in hall when beards wag all,
And welcome merry Shrove-tide :—
Be merry, be merry!

A cup of wine that's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the leman mine;

And a merry heart lives long-a.

Fill the cup, and let it come;

I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.

XXXII

A CLOWN'S HELEN

WAS this fair face the cause, quoth she,

Why the Grecians sackéd Troy?

Fond done, done fond,

Was this King Priam's joy?

With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,

There's yet one good in ten.

XXXIII

A CLOWN'S SONG

HEN that I was and a little tiny boy,

WHEN

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

A foolish thing was but a toy,

For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,

'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
By swaggering could I never thrive.

But when I came unto my beds,
With toss-pots still had drunken heads.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,

And we'll strive to please you every day.

XXXIV

FORESTER'S SONG

WHAT shall he have that kill'd the deer?

His leather skin and horns to wear.

Then sing him home;

Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;

It was a crest ere thou wast born:

Thy father's father wore it,

And thy father bore it!

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn

Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.