But had I knowne all thys before, They had been hanged all thre. [The 155] The kyng hee opened the letter anone, Himselfe he red it tho, And founde how these outlawes had slain Thre hundred men and mo: Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe, The baylyes, and the bedyls both, And broke his parks, and slayne his dere; So perelous out-lawes, as they were, When the kynge this letter had red, The kyng called hys best archars I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd, 1603 165 170 175 180 [The 156] The kynges bowmen busket them blyve, 185 And the quenes archers also; So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen, With them they thought to go. There twyse, or thryse they shote about There was no shote these yemen shot, Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè, Ver. 185. blythe. MS. 190 195 I hold hym never no good archar, That shoteth at buttes so wyde. 200 At what a butte now wold ye shote, At suche a but, syr, he sayd, Wyllyam wente into a fyeld, There they set up two hasell roddes 205 I hold him an archar, said Cloudesle, 210 That yonder wande cleveth in two. [Here 157] Here is none suche, sayd the kyng, Nor none that can so do. I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudeslè, Or that I farther go. Cloudesly with a bearyng arow Clave the wand in two. Thou art the best archer, then said the king, 215 And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam, 220 I wyll do more maystry. I have a sonne is seven yere olde, I wyll hym tye to a stake; All shall se, that be here; And lay an apple upon hys head, 225 Now haste the, then sayd the kyng, But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde, Ver. 202, 203, 212, to. P. C. P. C. i. e. 400 yards. 120 yards. Ver. 204. Twenty score paces. Ver. 222. Sixscore paces. P. C. i. e. Engl. Sprach- und Literaturdenkm. VI. 9 [And 158] And thou touche his head or gowne. (l.,) In syght that men may se, By all the sayntes that be in heaven, I shall hange you all thre. That I have promised, said William, And bound therto his eldest sonne, 230 235 240 An apple upon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent: 15 Syxe score paces they were out mete, There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, 245 He set that arrowe in his bowe, 20 That was both styffe and stronge. 250 255 25 0.30 35 He prayed the people, that wer there, For he shoteth for such a wager, Behoveth a stedfast hand. [Muche 159] Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè, That his lyfe saved myght be, And whan he made hym redy to shote, There was many weping ee. But Cloudeslè clefte the apple in twaine, Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge, I geve thee eightene pence a day, 5 10 265 And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene, By God, and by my fay; 270 Come feche thy payment when thou wylt Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman Of clothyng, and of fe: And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre, Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, Of my wyne-seller he shal be; 275 And whan he commeth to mans estate, Shal better avaunced be. 280 [And, 160] And, Wyllym, bring to me your wife, She shall be my chefe gentelwoman The yemen thanketh them curteously. 285 So forth be gone these good yemen, As fast as they might he, And after came and dwelled with the kynge, Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen; 25 4 And all, that with a hand-bowe shoteth, 30 THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE. The Grave-digger's song in HAMLET, A. 5. is taken from three stanzas of the following poem, though somewhat altered and disguised, probably as the same were corrupted by the ballad-singers of Shakespeare's time. The original is preserved among Surrey's Poems, 1559, and is attributed to 35 Lord Vaux, by Geo. Gascoigne, who tells us, it "was thought by some to be made upon his death-bed;" a popular error which he laughs at. (See his Epist. to Yong Gent. prefixed to his Posies 1575. 4to.) Lord Vaux was remarkable for his skill in drawing feigned manners, &c. for so I under5 stand an ancient writer. "The Lord Vaux his commenda"tion lyeth chiefly in the facilitie of his meetre, and the apt"nesse of his descriptions such as he taketh upon him to "make, namely in sundry of his Songs, wherein he showeth "the COUNTERFAIT ACTION very lively and pleasantly.” Arte 10 of Eng. Poesie, 1589. p. 51. See also Vol. 2. p. 45. 15 20 66 I Lothe that I did love, In youth that I thought swete: My fancies all be fled, And tract of time begins to weave [For 162] For age with stealing steps, And lusty life away she leapes, As there had ben none such. 5 པ་ Vo III. 10 My muse doth not delight Me as she did before, My hand and pen are not in plight, 15 For reason me denyes, And day by day to me she cryes, The wrinkles in my brow, The furrowes in my face Say, limping age will lodge him now, The harbinger of death, To me I see him ride, The cough, the colde, the gasping breath, |