F. O. Mann's notes on Thomas Deloney's Garland of Good Will

[ this text is scanned from the 1912 edition of Deloney's Works, edited by F. O. Mann. I have also scanned the text of the Garland of Good Will itself. ]

The Garland of Good Will

Date. The Garland of good Will is first mentioned by Nash in Haue with You to Saffron Walden, 1596 (see Introduction, p. xii). But the following entry occurs in the Stationer's Registers of 1592-3:

                   Vto MARCIJ.

John Wolfe	   Entered for his copie. Vnder the hand of
Edward White       the bishop of London and a master warden
the xxvij of       Styrrop; a book intituled The garden
August 1596        of goodwill.                    vjd.

There can be little doubt that the clerk wrote `garden' in mistake for garland and that this is the actual entry of Deloney's Garland of good Will. If this is so, it fixes the date of composition as before March 5, 1593. The Dialogue beweene Truth and Ignorance and Holofernes had been entered separately in 1588, and without doubt a great many of the ballads here included had been in broadside circulation before they were incorporated into the book. To these Deloney added other ballads, probably those of the more distinctive narrative kind, which were needed to bring the volume up to the required size.

Extant Editions. Ebbsworth speaks of `fragments of a 1604 edition', and J. P. Collier professes to have seen a complete copy. Neither, however, gives any references. The only accessible extant editions appear to be the following:--

[A] 1631. THE GARLAND OF Good Will. Divided into three parts: . . . Imprinted at London for Robert Bird, at the Bible in Saint Lawrence Lane 1631. (Bodleian.)

[B] 1659. Printed for J. Wright; formerly in the possession of J. A. Repton, Esq., Springfield House, Chelmsford. [Dixon.] The Bodleian copy, Wood 79. 5. (title page missing), is probably of the same edition and is entitled B in the collations.

[C] 1678. Printed for F. Wright at the sign of the Crown on Ludgate Hill. (Bodleian.)

[D] 1688. Printed by Fr. Clark for George Conyers; at the Ring on Ludgate Hill 1688. (Bodleian.)

[E] circa 1700 (?) Printed for G. Conyers in Little Britain. (Bodleian.)

[F] 1696 (?) Printed by G. Conyers, at the Sign of the Golden-Ring in Little Britain. (British Museum.)

[G] 1709 (?) Printed by G. Conyers at the sign of the Golden-Ring in Little Britain. (British Museum.)

To all the editions later than that of 1631 new poems have been added by the printer which are certainly not by Deloney. The present reprint is from the edition of 1631, and perhaps even in the present volume the last 3 poems are by another hand (cf. note on 6, A Farewell to Loue, p. 378).


The earliest known copy of this ballad is that added to the 1607 edition of Strange Histories. A complete collation with that version will be found at the end of these notes. Other copies exist: Roxb. iii. 714; Pepys, i. 498; Wood, 401. fol. 7, &c., and in the Crowne Garland (1659).

Source. It is difficult to trace the exact source of this ballad. Holinshed gives the following account of Rosamond's death: `He (i. e. Henry II) delited most in the companie of a pleasant damsell, whom he called the Rose of the world (the common people named hir Rosamund) for hir passing beautie, propernesse of person, and pleasant wit, with other amiable qualities, being verelie a rare and peerelesse peece in those daies. He made her an house at Woodstocke in Oxfordshire, like a labyrinth with such turnings and windings in and out as a knot in a garden cailed a maze, that no creature might find hir nor come to hir, except he were instructed by the king . . . But the common report of the people is, that the queene in the end found hir out by a silken thread, which the king had drawne after him out of hir chamber with his foot, and dealt with hir in such sharpe and cruell wise, that she liued not long after. She was buried in the nunnerie of Godstow beside Oxford.' (1587, vol. ii. p. 115.) Grafton's account differs very little from that in Holinshed. But the tragedy of Fair Rosamond was also dealt with by three other contemporary poets: (1) By Drayton in the Heroical Epistles (1597); (2) By Warner in Albions England (1586); (3) By Daniel in the Complaint of Rosamond (1592). The knight to whom is confided the custody of the bower appears in both Drayton's and Warner's version, but the likeness between Warner's poem and Deloney's appears too close to be quite accidental. The following extracts from Albions England, chap. 41, illustrate the similarity:--

25-36.	Not Sibils caue at Cuma, nor
	 The Labyrinth in Creat,
	Was like the bower of Rosamond
	 For intricate and great.

	The pellicane theare neasts his bird
	 And sporteth oft with her,
	Conducted by a clew of thread,
	 Els could he not but err.

	Besides her maydes, a knight of trust
	 Attended on her theare,
	Who suffred for hir beautie, long
	 Concealing it for feare.

141-8.	That while the knight did issue out,
	 Suspecting no assault,
	He was assailed, and from him
	 His guiding clew they caught.

	The beautie and the braueness of
	 The person and the place
	Amazed her, and hers who stoode
	 At gaze a certaine space.

153-6.	Faire Rosamond surprised thus,
	 Eare thus she did suspect,
	Fell on her humble knees, and did
	 Her fearefull hands erect.

181-4.	Ten thousand times farewell to thee:
	 My God whom I offended,
	Vouchsafe me mercy; saying which,
	 Her life she sweetly ended.

117. pearles of Gold, i. e. little drops of gold. See Oxford English Dictionary under Pearl. But the reading of C D E may possibly be the correct one.

Collation of the version of `The Death of Rosamond' printed in the 1607 edition of `Strange Histories' with the version printed in the `Garland of Good Will'. 19 the: our S.H. 30 turnings: turning S. H. 35 that: his S. H. 43 warre: Warres S. H. 49 the: my S. H. 53 afflicted: affected S. H. 71 a: the S. H. 89 coast: coastes S. H. 119 Galliard: galliards S. H. 122 be: bear S. H. 129 his: their S. H. 138 this: the S. H. 143 came: went S. H. 145 eyes: eye S. H. 149 Cast off thy Robes from thee: Cast off from thee thy Robes S. H. 151 thee: thou S. H. 153 knee: knees S. H. 157 on: of S. H. 166 were: was S. H.


Perhaps this is the ballad entered in the Stationers Registers, June 16, 1593, to John Wolfe, the abuse of beautye, represented vnder the tite of SHORES WIFE.

It is almost certainly that entered to William White, June 11, 1603. `of ye Lementacon of mistres JANE SHORE,' and again assigned over to Pavier on Dec. 14 1624, as `Jane Shore'.

Source. A good deal of information about Jane Shore may be found collected in Percy's introduction to the Pepys Ballad on the same subject, printed in the Reliques. The original account of her is contained in Sir Thomas More's Richard III, but the Chroniclers appropriated More's description verbatim, and probably Deloney followed Holinshed, who writes: `This woman was borne in London, worshipfullie friended, honestlie brought vp, and verie well married, sauing somewhat too soone, hir husband an honest citizen . . . of good substance. But forasmuch as they were coupled yer she were well ripe, she not verie feruentlie loued him, for whom she neuer longed which was happilie the thing that the more easilie made hir incline vnto the kings appetite, when he required hir. Howbeit the respect of his roialtie, the hope of gaie apparell, ease, and other wanton wealth, was able Soone to pearse a soft tender heart.' (1587, vol. ii, p. 724)

31-3. `Finallie, in manie weightie sutes she stood manie a man in great stead, either for none or verie small rewards.' (Ibid., p. 725.)

40-9. `The protector spoiled hir of all that euer she had . . . and he caused the bishop of London to put hir to open penance, going berore the crosse vpon a sundaie.' (Ibid., p. 724)

62. clacke and dish, the usual stock in trade of the mediaeval and Elizabethan beggar. Cf. Measure for Measure, III. ii. 137: `Your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack-dish.'

3. A NEW SONG OF KING EDGAR, &c. (Page 305.)

Another copy in Percy Folio.

Source. Probably Grafton's Chronicle. `Edgar, thus ruling the lande, after the death of his first wife, Egelfleda, worde was brought to him of the bewtie of a young Damsell named Elfrida, or Estrild, daughter of Orgarus Erle of Deuonshire: wherefore he sent a knight of his Courte named Ethelwolde, to espie whether the Mayde were of such bewtie, as shee was reported of or not, charging him, if shee were so bewtifull, that then he should aske her to wyfe for him. But this knight hauing sight of this Mayden, was so wounded with the darte of blinde Cupide, that he forgate his truth and allegeance, which he did owe to his Master and souereigne, and returned, shewing to the king, that she was nothing of the bewtie as she was reported to be, but of meane fayrenesse as other women are. Wherefore he besought the king, considering she was her father's Heyre and a good mariage, that he woulde be so good Lorde vnto him, as to write vnto her father, that he might haue her vnto Wyfe. The which the king granted, and at the last he obteyned her and maryed her. In processe of tyme the fame of this woman sprang so wyde, that at the last it came to the vnderstanding of king Edgar: wherewith the king notwithstanding, he were in his mind discontented with Ethelwold, which had so deceyued him, yet kept he good countenance and made semblance as though he had nothing forced of that matter at all. And vpon a tyme, as it were in game, warned this Ethelwold that then was an Erle by reason of his wyfe, or otherwise, that he woulde one night come and lodge in his house, and appointed the tyme when it should be. The Erle being nothing contented with this monition, ranne home almost dead for feare, and prayed his wyfe of helpe in that tyme of neede, and that shee would in all that she might make herself as foule and as vnseemely as shee could, and shewed to her all the residue of the matter. Then the woman cast in her minde, the great displeasure that might ensue towardes her against God, to make that foule, which he had made goodly and fayre, and also to her Lord and husbande against the king, thinking that he should cause her thus to do, to the entent to mocke and deceyue him. Wherefore, in consideration of the premisses, she trimmed and decked her selfe in most costly and showing apparell. And ouer that, if Dame Nature had anything forgotten or misprinted in her, she left not what might be done by womans help to haue it amended and reformed, and at the kings comming receyued him with all ioye and gladnesse. By which meanes, this yong amorous king was soone caught in the Deuil's snare, so that he set reason aparte and folowed his awne sensualitie. And for to bring his purpose the better about, he kept forth a countenaunce as he had bene well contented with all thing and desyred the Erle. that he would ryde with him on hunting, into the wood of Weluerley, that now is called Horsewood, where he awayting his tyme, strake the Erle, thorow the body with his shaft, so that he dyed soone after. And then he maried this Elfrida or Estrild shortly, and had by her Egelredus.' (1809, pp. 124-5.) But the story also occurs in Fox's Acts and Monuments and in Holinshed's Chronicle (1587, vol. i, p. 160). Holinshed, however, gives the name of the Duke of Cornwall as `Horgerius' and that of his daughter as `Alfred'.


Also in Percy Folio.

Source. Holinshed does little more than refer to the story (1587, vol. i, Historie of England, p. 193). Deloney seems to have used Grafton's account of `the good Erle Leofricus Erle of Mertia and of Chester'. `This man purchased manye great priuileges for the towne of Couentrye & made it free from any maner of Tolle, except onely of Horsse. For the which also to haue free, the common fame telleth, that after long request made to the king by his wyfe named Godiua he graunted her to haue it thereof freed, if that she woulde ride naked thorow the Towne, which she did, by meane whereof it was freed . . . But (she) also called in secret maner ... all those that then were Magistrates and rulers of the sayde Citie of Couentrie . . . requiring of them for the reuerence of womanhed, that at that day and tyme that she should ride . . . that streight commaundement should be geuen throughout all the City, that euerie person should shut in their houses and Wyndowes, and none so hardy to looke out into the streetes, nor remayne in the streetes vpon a great paine, so that when the tyme came of her out ryding none sawe her, but her husbande.' Grafton's Chronicle (1809), pp. 147-8.


Another copy in Percy Folio.

Source. The story occurs in Fabian's Chronicle (1811, p. 12), but the source appears to be Grafton's Chronicle. `In the tyme of the reyne of this Locryne, there was a certeyne Duke ( . . . named Humber) who warred sore vpon Albanactus, . . . and slue Albanact in plaine battaile . . . after he had thus subdued Albanactus, he helde the lande of Albania, vntill that Locrinus . . . gathered a great power of men of Armes together, and went against him, and by strength of the Britons chased and subdued the sayd Hunes so sharply, that many of them with theyr king were drowned in a Riuer which departeth England and Scotland . . . And it so came to passe that after the aforesayde victory had against the king of the Hunes . . . that Locryne fell in great phancy and loue with a faire Damosell named Estrild, who was also the daughter of the aforesayde Humber . . . and Locryne kept her vnlawfully a certeyne tyme . . . He made a Caue under the ground in the Citie of Troynouant and enclosed her therein . . . For . . . he durst not vse her company openly, but . . . priuiely and by stealth . . . But at length it came so to passe that Estrild was great with childe and delyuered of a verie faire daughter, whom he named Habren. At the same season also Gwendolena was brought a bed of a man child. . . . When, in processe of time Corineus (the D. of Cornwall) was dead, Locryne put away his wife Gwendolyn, and caused Estrild to be crowned Quene. The which thing Gwendolyn being maruellous wroth withall, went into Cornewall, and assembling together the power of the youth of the country, began to disquiet Locryne and to warre vpon him. At the length they ioyned battaile and met together nere a Ryuer called Stoore, where the sayde Locryne was slaine with an Arow. Then incontinent after his death, Gwendolyn folowing the raging passions of her father, tooke vpon her the gouernement of this realme, commaunding Estrild with her daughter Habren to be cast both hedlyng into the riuer Seuerne . . . And further made a proclamation throughout all the whole realme of Briteyn, that the same water should be euermore called Habren, after ye Mayden's name, for so euen at this day is Seuerne called in the Welsh tongue.' Grafton's Chronicle (1809), vol. i, pp. 28-30.

6. A SONG OF QUEENE ISABEL, &c. (Page 313.)

Also in Percy Folio.

Source. Grafton's Chronicle (1809) pp. 317-26.

1-30. `When the Queene . . . perceyued the pride of the Spencers and howe they preuayled with the king, and had caused him to put to death the greatest part of the nobles of his realme of Englande, and also that they bare towarde hir a sower countenaunce, and she fearing least they should haue put something into the kinges head, that might haue beene to the perill of her lyfe, was therefore desyrous to be out of this feare . . . The Queene therefore purposed nowe to flye the Realme and to go into Fraunce, and therefore did feyne her selfe that shee would go on pilgrimage to Saint Thomas of Caunterbury, from whence she tooke hir way to Winchelsey, and in the night entred into a ship . . . and then hauyng wind at will, they arriued shortly at the hauen of Boleyn in Fraunce . . . But the French king her brother, . . . had sent to meete her dyuers of the greatest Lordes of his realme . . . who honorably did receaue her . . . When the Noble King Charles of Fraunce had heard his sisters lamentation who with teares had expressed her heauie case, he most comfortably spake vnto her and sayd: fayre sister quiet your selfe, for by the fayth I owe to God and Saint Denise, I shall right well prouyde for you some remedy.' (p. 317.) `And not long after, the sayde Charles . . . assembled together a great number of the greatest Lordes and Barons of his realmes . . . And they concluded, yt the king might conueniently ayde her with Golde and Syluer.... Who (Charles) answered her and sayd ... Take of my men and subiectes . . . I will cause to be deliuered vnto you, golde, and siluer so muche as shall suffice you.' (p. 318.)

31-6. `The Frenche king and all his preuie counsaile were as colde and as straunge to help the Queene forwarde to her voyage as though they had neuer talked of the matter. And the French king brake that voyage, and made proclamation, commaundyng all his subiects vpon paine of banishement, that none should be so hardie, as to go with the Queene.' (p. 318.)

37-48. `When this tidinges was brought to the Queene, she was at her wittes ende, and knew not what to do . . . She and her sonne . . . departed from Paris and rode towarde Henault . . . And Sir John of Henault was certified of the tyme when the Queene came . . . and did to the Queene all the honour and reuerence he could deuise.' (P 319)

49-60. `The Queene who was right sorowfull, declared (complaynyng piteously) vnto him with wepyng eyes her miserable case, whereof the sayd Sir John had great pitie . . . and sayd, fayre Lady, behold me here your awne knight, who will not fayle to die for you in the quarrell . . . And I and such other as I can desyre, will put our lyues and goods in aduenture for your sake.' (pp. 319-20.)

64-7. `They . . . tooke shypping, and set forward on their passage by Sea . . . A tempest toke them in the sea . . . wherin God wrought mercifully for them.' `The maryners . . . landed on the sandes . . . nere vnto Harwich.' (p. 321.)

68-150. `Erle Henry came vnto the Queene with a great company of men of warre. And after him came . . . Erles, Barons, Knights and Esquiers with so many people that they thought themselues out of all perilles. So sone as king Edward had knowledge of the landyng of the Queene his wife . . . and heeryng also how the Barons and Nobles of the realme resorted vnto her . . . beyng then at London, left the sayde Citie vnder the gouernment and order of Maister Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter. The king himselfe accompanyed with the Spencers . . . taketh his way vnto Wales. But when he came to Bristowe, he caused that towne to be fortefyed. But the Bishop vsed such stoute wordes in the kings name, to the Maior and Citizens, who had an euill opinion of him, for bearying with the Spencers, whom the people hated as euill as the Deuill . . . that the sayde Citizens in a rage and fury tooke the sayde Byshop . . . and him . . . beheaded at the standard in Chepe. The maior sente vnto the Queene . . . with promise . . . that the Citie was quiet and at their commaundement (pp. 322-3.) Then the Queene and all hir companie . . . tooke the right way to Bristowe . . . and besieged the towne round about as nere as they might. When the people of the towne saw that they could haue no peace otherwise, neyther saue the towne, their goodes, nor their lyues . . . they agreed to the Queene, and opened the Gates. Then Sir Hugh Spencer, and the Erle of Arondell was taken and brought before the Queene. Then the sayd knight counsayled with others, that is to say, with the Barons, and Erles and knightes there present, and then he reported their opinions and iudgements. The which was . . . First to be draune and after to be headed, and then their bodyes to be hanged on a Gibbet . . . So was it executed before the Castell gate of Bristow. And after thys execution, the king and the yong Spencer . . . beyng wythout hope of any comfort . . . entred into a little Vessell behinde the Castell, thinking to have fled . . . But whatsoeuer they did, the winde was so contrary with them . . . they were brought againe within a quarter of a myle of the sayde Castell. At the last it happened Sir Henry Beaumond . . . to enter into a Barge .... and rowed after this Vessel so long, that the Vessel wherin the king was, could not make any great way before them, but at the last they were ouer taken, & so brought agayne to the Towne of Bristowe, and delyuered to the Queene . . . as prisoners . . . Then the king by the counsayle of all the Barons and knights was sent vnto the strong Castell of Barkeley. . . Then Sir Hugh Spencer the sonne was delyuered to Sir Thomas Wage, Marshall of the hoste . . . the Oueen set forward towards London . . . that at the last they came to the City of Harfford. And in all the waye, Sir Thomas Wage had caused Syr Hugh Spencer to be bounde and to be set upon a lewde lade . . . and he had put vpon him a Tabarte, such as Traytors & theeues were wont to weare, and thus he passed thorough the townes with Trumpes and Pipes of Reedes blowen before him. And when the Quene was come to Herfford . . . Sir Hugh Spencer the sonne who was nothing beloued, was brought foorth before the Queene and all the Lordes and knights . . . And so was he then iudged by playne sentence . . . because he had conspired treason and was a false traytor.' (pp. 324-5.)

151-6. `And when the sayd articles were read and made known to all the Lordes, Nobles, and Commons of the realme . . . they concluded . . . that such a man was not worthie to be a king, nor to weare a croune royall. And therefore they all agreed that Edward his eldest sonne, should be crowned king in steed of his father, so that he would take about him, sage, true and good counsaile.' (pp. 325-6.)


Also in Percy Folio.

Source. The accounts of the banishment of Hereford and Norfolk given by Grafton and Holinshed are almost exactly the same. `On a daye beyng in the company of Thomas Mowbry . . . he (Hereford) beganne to breake his minde vnto him . . . rehersing how king Richard little esteemed the Nobles of hys Realme. And after . . . he (the Duke of Norfolk) declared to the king . . . what he had heard: and to aggrauate, and to make the offense the greater, he added much thereunto. The king . . . was content to here both parties together, and therefore called vnto him the Duke of Lancaster, who was chiefe of his counsayle, and both the Dukes of Herfford and Norffolke, and caused the accuser openly to declare what he had heard the Duke of Herfford speake. The Duke of Herfford . . . declared worde by worde what he had sayde . . . denyeng all the other matters that the Duke of Norffolk had added thereunto, and sayde further vnto the king, that if it would please hys grace to suffer hym, he would prooue his accuser vntrue, and a false forger of lyes by the stroke of a speare and dent of a sworde . . . He (the King) graunted them the battayle, and assyned the place to be at Couentre, in the moneth of August next ensuyng . . . They beyng armed, entred on horseback the one after the other into the Listes . . . Now the time beyng come, these two noble men, eche hauyng his speare in rest, and readie to ioyne the battaile, the king cast downe his warder, and commaunded them to stay, and then the king and the Lordes went to counsaile, and they toke vp the matter: And after great deliberation, the king by the mouth of the king of Heraults, pronounced sentence in this sort, first that Henry of Lancaster, Duke of Herfford Appellant, and Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norffolke defendant, haue honorably and valiantly appered here within the listes this day, and haue bene redy to darreyne the battayle, lyke two valiant knightes, and hardie Champions: But because the matter is great and weightie betweene these two great Princes, this is the order of the king and his counsaile. That Henry Duke of Herfford for dyuerse considerations ... shall within xv dayes depart out of the realme, for the terme of ten yeres, without returnyng ... and that vpon paine of death.... That Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Northffolke . . . because he had sowen sedicion in the realme by his wordes, whereof he can make no proofe, shall aduoyde the realme of England. . . neuer to return againe into the same vpon paine of death . . . And then they called before him the two banished persons, and made them swere, that ye one should neuer come into the place where the other was . . . The Duke of Norfolke . . . departed sorowfully out of the realme into Almaine, and at last came to Venice, where for thought he died. The Duke of Herfford . . . toke his iourney, and came to Calice, and so into Fraunce, where he continued a while . . . King Charles . . . receyued him gently and honorably enterteyned him.... But while the king was thus occupyed in Irelande, the Duke of Herford by the provocation of Thomas Arondell, Archebishop of Caunterbury, . . . returned nowe into England.' Grafton's Chronicle (1800,), vol. i, pp. 469-71. Perhaps the beautiful verses put in the mouth of the exiled Norfolk were faintly suggested by Norfolk's farewell to his country in Richard II, iii. 154-72.


Other copies: Roxb. iii. 25; Bagford, ii. 14-15; Pepys, ii. 100; Wood, 401. fol. 62; Percy Folio; British Museum, c. 40. m. 10. This ballad was also entered in the Stationers' Registers (1603):

8 JUN 11.

Edward Aldee. The noble Actes now newly found of ARTHURE of the round table.

It was assigned over to Pavier, Wright, and others on Dec. 14, 1624 (Stationers' Registers). In 2 Henry IV, II. iii, Falstaff sings a stave of the ballad `When Arthur first in court . . . And was a worthy king.'

Source. The ballad is simply a paraphrase of a passage in Malory's Mort Arthure (The Booke of Sir Launcelot du Lake). Wright's edition, vol. i, chaps. c-cviii. Chap. c: `Anon after that the noble and worthy King Arthur was come from Rome into England, all the knights of the Round Table resorted unto the king, and made many justs and tournerments, and some ther were that were good knights, which increased so in armes and worship that they passed all their fellowes in prowisse and noble deedes, and that was well proved on many, but especially it was proved on Sir Launcelot du Lake.... Thus Sir Launcelot rested him a long while with play and game; and then hee thought to prove himselfe in strange adventures.' Chap. cvi: `And so Sir Launcelot departed, and by adventure came into the same forrest where as he was taken sleeping. And in the middest of an hieway hee met with a damosell riding upon a white palfrey . . . "Fair damosell" said Sir Launcelot "know yee in this countrey any adventures?" "Sir Knight" said the damosell to Sir Launcelot "here are adventures neere hand, and thou durst prove them". "Why should I not prove adventures?" said Sir Launcelot "as for that cause come I hither" "Well" said the damsel "thou seemest well to be a right good knight, and if thou dare meete with a good knight, I shall bring thee where as the best knight is and the mightiest that ever thou found, so that thou wilt tell mee what thy name is, and of what countrey and knight thou art?" . . . "Truly my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake" . . . "Hereby dwelleth a knight that will not bee overmatched for no man that I know, but ye overmatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine, and as I understond, he hath in his prison of King Arthur's Court good knights threescore and four . . ." And so shee brought him unto the fourd and unto the tree whereon the bason hung. So Sir Launcelot beate on the bason with the end of his spear so hard and with such a might that he made the bottome fall out.... Then was hee ware of a great knight that drove an horse afore him, and overthwart the horse lay an armed knight bound. "Now faire knight" said Sir Launcelot "put that wounded knight from thy horse, and let him rest a while, and then let us two prove our strength together. For as it is informed and shewed me, thou doest and hast done great despite and shame unto the knights of the Round Table" . . . "And thou bee of the round table" said Sir Turquine, "I defie thee and all thy fellowship" "That is overmuch said," said Sir Launcelot.' Chap. cvii: `And then they put their speares in their rests, and came together with their horses as fast as it was possible for them to runne, and either smote other in the middest of their shields, that both their horses backs burst under them, whereof the knights were both astonied, and as soon as they might avoide their horses, they tooke their shields afore them and drew out their swords, and came together eagerly, and either gave other many great strookes . . . And so within a while thay had both grimly wounds and bled passing grievously.... At the last they were both brethless, and stood leaning on their swords "Now, fellow" said Sir Turquine "hold thy hand a while and tell me what I shall aske thee." "Say on" said sir Launcelot "Thou art" said Sir Turquine "the biggest man that ever I met withall -- and like one knight that I hate above all other knights, and that thou be not he, I will lightly accord with thee, and for thy loue I will deliver all the prisoners that I have." . . . "It is well said" quoth Sir Launcelot "but sithence it is so that I may have thy friendship, what knight is he that thou so hatest above all other?" "Truly" said Sir Turquine "his name is Launcelot du Lake, for he slew my brother, . . . therefore him I except of all knights." . . . "Now see I well" said Sir Launcelot, "that such a man I might be I might have peace and such a man I might be there should be betweene us two mortall warre, and now, sir knight, at thy request, I will that thou wit and know that I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwicke, and knight of the round table. And now I defie thee doe thy best" "Ah" said Sir Turquine "Launcelot thou art unto mee most welcome, as ever was any knight, for we shall never part till the one of us bee dead." And then hurtled they together as two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their shields and swords. . . Sir Turquine gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the ground there as they fought was all besprinkled with blood.' Chap. cviii `Then at the last Sir Turquine waxed very faint and gave somewhat backe and bare his shield full low from wearinesse. That soone espied Sir Launcelot and then lept upon him fiersly as a lyon . . . so he plucked him doune on his knees, and anon he rased off his helme, and then he smote his neck asunder.'

110. rushing is probably a misprint for rashing (as in Malory's account). So also perhaps in l. 120. To rash is to smash, or run against violently. The Oxford English Dictionary quotes from Douglas's Aeneis, xii. I. 19: `raschand the schaft in sundir.'


Probably the text is corrupt. The metre is eccentric even for the balladists.

49. borrowes; pledges. The editors of the Oxford English Dictionary consider it was archaic by the time of Spenser, and quote from Act 34 & 35 Henry VIII, `Pledges or borows to pay the kinges fine.'


Perhaps that entered in the Stationers' Registers to Abell Jeffes on June 27, 1593: `The sadd lamentacon of a Constant yonge gentlewoman.'


Other copies in Roxb. i. 102, 103; Percy Folio; Brit. Museum, c. 40. m. 10; Lord Crawford's Collection; Pagford, ii. 24.

Under the name of In the daies of old this ballad was assigned over to Pavier and others on Dec. 14, 1624. (Stationers Registers.) The text is very corrupt in all copies except the Crawford (about 1660), which has been largely used to correct the present text.

Source. The story seems to be derived from French history and refers to the marriage between Ethelwulf of England and Judith, the daughter of Charles the Bold. Grafton curtly dismisses the event. `Ethelwolph . . . reigned ouer the Saxons . . in the yere of our Lord 832 . . . He was maried to Osburga his Butier's daughter, a woman of low birth, but in an old written Chronicle, I find that he was maried to ludith, daughter of the French king.' Chronicle (1809), vol. i, p 105. The immediate source of Deloney's story appears to be Belleforest's Histoires tragiques, Le Quatriesme Tome, Histoire lvii (MDXCI) Belleforest relates how Judith, the daughter of Charles the Bold, and Baldwin the Forester fell in love with each other. Baldwin, however, was forced to proceed to Flanders, and during his absence, Edolph the widower king of England asked for the hand of the princess, and she was sent to him in England. Within six months Edolph died, and as Judith was crossing the sea on her return to France she was carried off and married by Baldwin.

Deloney took the title of Forester in its original significance, but as Belleforest himself says (p. 120) `. . . ce seroit grand folie de penser qu'es annales Francoises, quand on lit les forestiers de Flandres, que ce fussent gens de basse estoffe, & tels que ceux qu'a present on nomme gardes des forests, ains c'estoyent des seigneurs des plus fauoris, & auancez en la Court de nos Roys.'

67-74. Percy adds the following note on this passage:-- `It will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman who married the Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half cloth of gold and half frieze, with the following motto:--

Cloth of Gold, do not despise,
Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize;
Cloth of Frize, be not too bold,
Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold.'


Other copies: Roxb. i. 503; Percy Folio.

Source. This story appears in The Decameron (Giorn. x, Nov. viii). Deloney, however, seems to have taken it from Elyot's Governor (1531). See Croft's edition, vol. ii, pp. 133-59. `There was in the citie of Rome a noble senatour named Fuluius, who sent his sone called Titus, beinge a childe, to the citie of Athenes in Greece (whiche was the fountaine of al maner of doctrine), there to lerne good letters, and caused him to be hosted with a worshipfull man of that citie called Chremes. This Chremes hapned to haue also a sone named Gisippus, who not onely was equall to the said yonge Titus in yeres, but also in stature, proporcion of body, fauour, and colour of visage, countenaunce and speche. The two children were so like, that without moche difficultie it coulde not be discerned of their propre parents which was Titus from Gysippus, or Gysippus from Titus. These two yonge gentilmen, as they seemed to be one in fourme and personage, so, shortely after acquaintaunce, the same nature wrought in their hartes such a mutuall affection, that their willes and appetites daily more and more so confederated them selfes that it semcd none other, whan their names were declared, but that they hadde onely chaunged their places . . . (Gysippus) partly by the vnfortunate callynge on of his kynnesmen, partly by the aduise of his dere frende Titus, therto by other desired, . . . assented to mary such one as shulde lyke hym . . . His frendes founde a yong gentilwoman, which . . . they thought was for suche a yonge man apte and conuenient . . . He . . . found her in euery fourme and condicion accordinge to his expectation, and appetite; wherat he moche reioysed and became of her amorouse, in so moche as many and often tymes he leauinge Titus at his studie secretely repayred vnto her. Nat with standying the feruent loue that he had to his frende Titus, at the last surmounted shamefastnes. Wherfore he disclosed to him his secrete iornayes . . . And on a tyme he, hauynge with hym his frende Titus, went to his lady, of whom he was receyued moste ioyously. But Titus furthwith, as he behelde so heuenly a personage adourned with beautie inexplicable . . . had the harte through perced with the firy darte of blinde Cupide. . . All be it with incredible paynes he kepte his thoughtes secret, vntyll that he and Gysippus were retouned vnto their lodynges. Then the miserable Titus . . . all turmented and oppressed with loue, threwe hym selfe on a bedde . . . And there with he sent out from the botome of his harte depe and cold sighes, in suche plentie that it lacked but litle that his harte ne was riuen in peces . . . But at the last the payne became so intollerable that wolde he or no, he was inforced to kepe his bedde. . . Gysippus . . . harteley desired him . . . he wolde no longer hyde from him his griefe .. . Titus . . . broughte furthe with great difficultie his wordes in this wyse. . . Gysippus, I saye your trust, is the cause that I am entrapped; the rayes or beames issuinge from the eyen of her whom ye haue chosen . . . hath thrilled throughout the middes of my hart.. . But Gysippus . . . answered in this wyse . . . Here l renounce to you clerely all my title and interest that I nowe halle or mought haue in that faire mayden . . . Take hede, this is rnyne aduise; ye knowe well that we two be so like, that, beinge a parte and in one apparayle, fewe then do knowe us . . . Therfore I my selfe will be present with my frendes and perfourme all the partes of a bride . . . And ye shall abyde in a place secrete . . . vntill it be nyght. And then shall ye quickly conuaye your selfe in to the maidens chambre. The daye of the maryage was commen . . . Than (as it was before agreed) Titus conueyed hlm selfe, after Gysippus retourned to his house... The morowe is comen. And Gysippus, thinking it to be expedient that the trouth shulde be discouered, assembled all the nobilitie of the citie at his owne house . . . Titus with his lady is departed towardes the citie of Rome . . . But nowe let vs resorte to Gysippus, who . . . was so maligned at, as well by his owne kynesmen as by the frendes of the lady. . . that they spared nat daily to vexe hym . . . Finally they adiudged him vnworthy to enioye any possessions or goodes lefte to him by his parentes . . . Wherfore they dispoyled hym of all thinges, and almoste naked expelled him out of the citie. Thus is Gysippus . . . banisshed his owne countraye for euer, and as a man dismayed wandringe hither and thither, fyndeth no man that wolde socour him. At the last, (he) . . . concluded that he wolde go to Rome, and declare his infortune to his said frende Titus. . . In conclusion . . . he is commen to the citie of Rome and diligently enquirynge for the house of Titus, at the laste he came to hit, but beholdinge it so beauteous, large, and princely, he was a shamed to approche nigh to it, beinge in so simple a state and unkladde; but standeth by, that in case that Titus came forthe out of his house he mought than present hym selfe to hym. He beinge in this thought Titus . . . issued out from his doore, and . . . behelde Gysippus; but beholdyng his vile apparayle regarded him nat . . . Wherwith Gysippus was so wounded to the harte, thinkyng that Titus had condemed his fortune, that . . . he furthwith departed, entendinge nat to abide any lenger, but as a wilde beste to wandre abrode in the worlde. But for werynesse he was constrayned to entre into an olde berne, without the citie, where he . . . with wepinge and dolorous cryenge bewayld his fortune . . . And therwith drewe his knyfe, purposinge to haue slayne him selfe. And . . . fatigate with longe iornayes and watche . . . he felle in to a deade sleepe . . . In the meane tyme a commun and notable rufian or thefe, whiche had robbed and slayne a man, was entred in to the barne. . . And seinge Gysippus bewept, and his visage replenisshed with sorowe, and also the naked knife by him . . . the said rufian takinge for a good occasion to escape, toke the knife of Gysippus, and puttinge it in the wounde of him that was slayne, put it all bloody in the hande of Gysippus, beinge faste a slepe, and so departed. Sonne after the dedde man beinge founde, the offycers made diligent serche for the murderar . . . and fynding Gysippus a slepe, with a blody knife in his hand, they a waked him . . . He denied nothing that was laide to his charge, desiringe the officers to make haste that he mought be shortly out of his life . . . Anone reporte came to the senate that a man was slayne, and that a stranger . . . was founden in such fourme as is before mencioned. They forth with commaunded hym to be brouoht vnto their presence . . . Titus beinge then Consull . . . and espienge by a litle signe in his visage, whiche he knewe, that it was his dere frende, Gysippus . . . rose out of his place, and . . . sayde that he had slayne the man . . . But Gysippus . . . more importunately cried to the senate to procede in their iugement on him that was the very offender . . . There hapned to be in the please at that tyme, he which in dede was the merdrer, who perceyuinge the meruaylous contention of these two persones, . . . and that it proceeded of an incomparable frendshippe . . . was vehemently prouoked to discouer the trouthe. Wherfore he brake through the prease, and comminge before the senate he spake in this wyse . . . I am that persone that slewe hym that is founden dedde by the barne. Here at all the Senate and people toke comfort, and the noyse of reioysing hartes filled all the court . . . wherfore the Senate consulted of this mater, and finally . . . discharged the felon. Titus . . . hauinge Gysippus home to his house . . . he was honourable apparailed . . . Titus . . . assembled a great armye and went with Gysippus vnto Athenes. Where he . . . dyd on them sharpe execution, and restorynge to Gysippus his landes and substaunce, stablyshed him in perpetuall quietnes.'



Other copies: Roxb. i. 302; British Museum, c. 40, m. Io; Pepys, i. 34; Percy Folio.

Source. The original source is of course the Decameron (Giorn. x, Nov. x), and the story was well known to the Elizabethans in Chaucer's version (The Clerk's Tale). From the entries in the Stationers' Registers for 1565-6 it is evident there were earlier ballads on the same subject.'

`Rd of Owyn Rogers, for his lycence for pryntinge of a ballett intituled the sounge of pacyente Gressell unto hyr make . . . iij

Rd of Wylliam greffeth, for his lycence for pryntinge of ij ballettes to the tune of pacyente Gressell . . . . . . . . . . . . iij '

Chapple thinks the original ballad dates from before 1557, when the Stationers' Registers begin, in which case Deloney may have been merely remodelling an older version. (See also Appendix 1.)

35. staining. Cf. p. 84, l. 20, and note.

119. Bisse. Apparently either dark grey, or short for `blew-bis', which was a dull ultramarine (Oxford English Dictionary).

Pal. `A kind of fine cloth, of which cloaks and mantles of state were formerly made.' Nares.


Another copy in the Percy Folio.

Entered in the Stationers Registers, March 23, 1587-8, to Sampson Clerk `a proper newe ballad dyaloguewyse betwene Syncerytie and WILFULL IGNORANCE.' The model for this ballad in dialogue appears to be Luke Shepherd's Interlude of JOHN BON and MASTER PARSON (1548). The argument and conclusion is much the same in each case. Percy says, `The scene we may suppose to be Glastonbury Abbey,' but it is more likely that if Deloney had any particular place in his mind it was the ruin of St. Bartholomew's Chapel at Newbury. In Michaelmas Term, 1576, the Queen's Attorney-General filed information against Philip Kestell for intruding upon the chantry lands, and questions were put to six clothiers of Newbury on the desolation and destruction of the Chapel without the king's command (see Money's History of Newbury, pp. 216-24). Perhaps Deloney was living in the town at the time of the inquest.

9. vazonne. Plural of dialect form of `faith ' (?).

27. Of new learning, i. e. of the new learning.

29. Law, in the old meaning of religion. Cf. Chaucer's Man of Lawes Tale, 375-6:

She rydeth to the sowdan on a day,
And seyde him, that she wolde reneye hir lay.'

35-40. Jeremiah, vii. 18.

80. zacring bell. The sacring bell was rung at the elevation of the Host, and hence,

A number great of Sacring Belles with pleasant sound doe ring
On Corpus Christi day.

Googe's Popish Kingdom (Brand, vol. i, p. 236).

81-4. Cf. Paradiso, Cant. xix:

A questo regno
non sall mai chi non credette in Cristo,
ne pria, ne poi ch'ei si chiavasse al legno.

105. our Lady of Walsingham. Cf. p. 365, l. 2.

111. Elizabeth Barton, the `holy maid of Kent' who prophesied against the divorce of Henry VIII, was executed on May 5, 1534. Deloney's attitude towards her and Becket is that of the Reformers, who shifted right divine from the Papacy to the Monarchy.


This is probably the ballad entered with the preceding one to Sampson Clerk on March 23, 1587-8:

`Another Ballade intytuled the moste famous historye of JUDITH and OLOFERNES.'

Source. The story is of course taken from the book of Judith, and adjoined excerpts are from the Geneva Bible of 1560. Curiously enough, when Elizabeth visited Norwich, Aug. 16, 1578, a pageant was presented before her in which Judith appeared and spoke the following lines:

If this his grace were given to me, poor wight,
If a widows hand could vanquish such a foe,
Then to a prince of thy surpassing might,
What tyrant lives but thou maist overthrow.

Blomefield's Hist. of Norwich, Part I, p. 329.

Cf. also the note on p. 43, l. 42.

Chap. ii, vv. 4-6: `Nabuchodonosor . . . called Olofernes . . . and said vnto him . . . Thus saith the great King, the Lord of the whole earth, . . . thou shalt go against all the West countrey, because they disobeied my commandement.'

Chap. iii, v. 8: `that all nacions shulde woshippe Nabuchodonosor onely, and that all tongues and tribes shulde call vpon him as God.'

Chap. iv, v. S: `And (they) toke all the toppes of the hie mountaines, and walled the villages that were in them, and put in vitailes for the prouision of warre.'

Chap. v, v. I: 'Then was it declared to Olofernes . . . that the children of Israel had prepared for warre.'

Chap. vi, vv. 1-3: `Olofernes, the chief captaine . . . said . . . who is god but Nabuchodonosor, He wil send his power, and wil destroye them from the face of the earth, and their God shal not deliuer them.'

Chap. vii, vv. I , 2: `Olofernes commanded all his armie and all his people, . . . that thei shulde remoue their campes against Bethulia . . . and the armie of the men of warre was an hundreth thousand and seuentie fotemen, & twelue thousand horsemen.' v. 17: `and they pitched in the valley, & toke the waters, and the fountaines of the waters of the children of Israel.' v. 22: `Therefore their children swoned, and their wiues & yong men failed for thirst.' v. 23: `Then all the people assembled to Ozias, & to the chief of the citie . . . and cryed with a loude voyce.' v. 27: `it is better for vs to be made a spoile vnto them,than to dye for thirst.' vv. 30-1: `Then said Ozias to them, Brethren, be of good courage; let vs waite yet fiue daies, in the which space the Lord our God may turne his mercie toward vs.... And if these daies passe, and there come not helpe vnto vs, I wil do according to your worde.'

Chap. viii, vv. I and 2: `Now at that time, Iudeth heard thereof . . . And Manasses was her housband, . . .' v. 7: `She was also of a goodlie countenance & very beautiful to beholde.' vv. 11 and 12: `And they came vnto her, and she said vnto them . . . who are you that haue tempted God this day . . . ?' vv. 33-5: `You shal stand this night in the gate, and I will go forthe with mine handmaid: . . . But inquire not you of mine acte: . . . Then said Ozias & the princes vnto her, Go in peace . . .'

Chap. x, vv. 3-5: `And putting away the sackecloth wherewith she was clad . . . she . . . dressed the heere of her head, and put attire vpon it, and put on the garments of gladnes And she . . . put on bracelets and sleues, and rings and earings, & all her ornaments; and she decked her selfe brauely to allure the eyes of all men that shuld se her Then she gaue her maide a bottel of wine, and a pot of oyle, and filled a scrippe with floure, & with dry figges . . .' vv. 10-14: `Iudeth went out, she and her maide with her . . . and the first watche of the Assyrians met her And toke her, and asked her Of what people art thou ? and whence comest thou ? and whither goest thou ? And she said, I am a woman of the Hebrewes, and am fled from them And I come before Olofernes, the chief captaine of your armie . . . Now when the men heard her wordes, & behelde her countenance, they wondered greatly at her beautie, . . .' vv. 17-18: `Then they chose out of them an hundreth men, and prepared a charet for her and her maide and broghte her to the tent of Olofernes Then there was a running to and fro throughout the campe . . .' vv. 22-3: `He came forthe vnto the entrie of his tent, and they caried lampes of siluer before him . . . they all marueiled at the beautie of her countenance, and she fel doune vpon her face, and did reuerence vnto him, & his seruants take her vp.'

Chap. xi, v. I: `Then said Olofernes vnto her Woman, be of good comfort:' v. 3: `But now tel me wherefore thou hast fled from them & art come vnto vs.' v. 20: `Then her wordes pleased Olofrnes, and all his seruants, and they marueiled at her wisdome.'

Chap. xii, v. 2: `But Iudeth said I may not eat . . . lest there shulde be an offence, but I can suffice my selfe with the things that I haue broght.' vv. 6-7: `And (she) sent to Olofernes, saying, Let my lord commande that thy handmaide may go forthe vnto prayer. Then Olofernes commanded his garde that thei shuld not stay her:' vv. 10-11 `And in the fourth day, Olofernes made a feast Then said he to Bajoas the eunuche who had charge ouer all that he had, Go and persuade this Hebrewe woman, . . . that she come vnto vs.' vv. 13-16: `Then went Bajoas . . . & came to her, & said, Let not this faire maide make diffcultie to go in to my lord. Then said Iudeth vnto him, Who am I now, that I shulde gainesay my lord ? . . . & her maide went & spred for her skinnes on the ground ouer against Olofernes Now when Iudeth came & sate doune, Olofernes heart was rauished with her . . .' vv. 19, 20: `Then she toke, & ate & dranke before him the things, that her maide had prepared. And Olofernes reioyced because of her & dranke muche more wine then he had drunken at anie time in one day since he was borne.'

Chap. xiii, vv. 1, 2: `Now when the euening was come, his seruants made haste to departe, and Bajoas shut his tent without, & dismissed those that were present. And Iudeth was left alone in the tent, & Olofernes was stretched along vpon his bed; for he was filled with wine.' vv. 6-11 `Then she came to the post of ye bed which was at Olofernes head, & toke doune his fauchin from thence . . . and said, strengthen me, o Lord God of Israel . . . And she smote twise vpon his necke . . . and she toke away his head from him, . . . and pulled down the canopie from the pillers . . . & gaue Olofernes head to her maid, . . . so they twaine went together according to their custome vnto prayer, and pressing through the tentes . . . went vp the mountaine of Bethulia, and came to the gates thereof Then said Iudeth . . . open now the gate: God, euen our God is with vs to shewe his power yet in lerusalem, and his force against his enemies . . .' v. 15: `Beholde the head of Olofernes.'

Chap. xiv, vv. 11-13: `Assone as the morning arose thei hanged the head of Olofernes out at the wall, & euerie man toke his weapons, and they went forthe by bandes . . . But when the Assyrians sawe them, they sent to their captains . . . So they came to Olofernes tent . . .' V. 15: `he (Bajoas) founde him cast vpon the floore, and his head was taken from him.'

Chap. xv, vv. 1, 2: `And when thei that were in the tents, heard, they were astonished; . . . altogether amased, thei fled by euerie way.'


Apparently referred to in Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, III. iii, where a fiddler quotes The Rose of England as one of his ballads. There seems no reason to believe it is ' translated out of French '.



Probably that entered in the Stationers Registers, Aug. 26, 1591, to John Danter, `A pleasant newe ballad Called The Maydens choyce.' The first stanza of this poem appears in the Passionate Pilgrime, printed for W. Jaggard, 1599, and attributed to Shakespeare. There can be little doubt that Jaggard was merely reprinting scraps of poetry he had gathered from all sources, and dignified his collection with the name of Shakespeare (then at the height of his fame) in order to promote its sale. The first lines of a street ballad would be peculiarly liable to appropriation of this sort. Probably Jaggard's version came to him orally and hence it differs somewhat from that in the Garland, and is here reprinted:

Crabbed age and youth cannot liue together,
Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care,
Youth like summer morne, Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer braue, Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport, Ages breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame
Youth is hot and bold, Age is weake and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age I doe abhor thee, Youth I doe adore thee,
O my loue my loue is young:
Age I doe defie thee, oh sweet Shepheard hie thee:
For methinks thou staies too long.

2. [WALSINGHAM.] (Page 365.)

Another but inferior copy in Percy Folio.

This ballad resembles that of Flodden Field (p. 25) and the Maidens Song (p. 33) in Jacke of Newberie in so far that it is very difficult to decide how far it is traditional and how far it is the work of Deloney. It is scarcely probable that a strong Protestant like Deloney would begin a ballad with reference to the `holy land' of a Catholic shrine; it is quite likely however that he would sink his religious opinions when an easy opportunity of turning a ballad presented itself in the expansion of some traditional verses. Hence I am inclined to believe that the opening stanza is more or less traditional, but the rest of the poem seems of individual composition, and is therefore probably Deloney's. Walsingham in Norfolk was famous in the Middle Ages for its image of the Virgin Mary, and Langland shortly describes the character of its votaries.

Hermites on an heep . with hoked staves
Wenten to Walsyngham . and here wenches after. (i. 52.)

The tradition of the Walsingham pilgrimage survived through the Elizabethan age. Thus Nash refers to 'gangs of good fellows that hurtled and hustled thither, as it had been to the shrine of Saint Thomas a Beckett or our Ladie of Wolsingham' (Lenten Stuff, edit. MCKerrow, p. 162). The great pilgrim routes were exactly the places where traditional songs would flourish for the amusement of wayfarers who, like the Canterbury Pilgrims, found

comfort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon:

Skeat (Piers Plowman, ii. 9) quotes from the Examination of William Thorpe in Fox's Acts and Monuments, `I know wel that when divers men and women will goe thus, after their owne wils and finding out, on pilgrimage, they will ordaine with them before, to have with them both men and women, that can well sing wanton songs.'

It is very probable that at one time a large variety of Walsingham ballads existed. Shakespeare seems to quote from one of them in Hamlet, IV. V. 23-6:

How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.

The Percy Folio contains another:

Gentle heardsman, tell to me,
Of curtesy I thee pray,
Unto the towne of Walsingham
Which is the right & ready way?

A variant of Deloney's version appears in Fletcher's Knight of the Purning Pestle, II. Sc. ult.:

As you came from Walsingham
From the Holy Land,
There met you my true love,
By the way as you came?

Similarly, in the Match at Midnight, Randalls, a Welshman, parodies the poem:

Did hur not see hur true loves,
As hur came from London?

3. THE WINNING OF CALES. (Page 367.)

Another copy in Percy Folio.

The subject of this ballad is the taking of Cadiz on June 21, 1596, by Lord Howard, the Earl of Essex, and many of the details are substantiated by the account given in Stow's Annales. (1615.)

51-60. `Some resolued to flie to Porto Reall, some to burne their Ships, some ran their ships a ground; diuers Spanyards lept into the water, whereof some swamme ashoare, some were drowned, some taken, some slaine.' (p. 773.)

70-7. `When the lorde Admirall came into the town, hee found the Earle of Essex skirmishing and fighting with the Spanyardes, who fought and stil fled before him.' (Ibid.)

85-6. `And now proclamation was made that no Englishemen should offer violence to any religious person, to any woman or childe, or any other of the Spanish nation in Cadiz.' (Ibid., p. 774.)

90-134. `The conditions whereupon the Corrigidor & the rest of the chiefe of the Towne yeilded were these: they should haue their liues saued, & onely their wearing clothes permitted them: all the rest of their goods and wealth should be spoyle and pillage to the Souldeers.' From the graphic detail and the use of the first person in this ballad, it may be hazarded that Deloney himself may have taken part in the Spanish expedition, which perhaps also gave him the material for The Spanish Ladies Loue (p. 375).


Another copy in Percy Folio.

Source. This story seems to have appeared for the first time in Froissart's Chronicle (i, chaps. 77-89). Other versions exist in Painter's Palace of Pleasure (Tale 46), in Bandello's Novelle (Parte I, Nov. 29), and in the Chronicles of Grafton and Holinshed. But Deloney probably drew at first hand from the play of `The Rayne of King Edward the third: As it hath bin sundrie times plaied about the Citie of London,' which was entered in the Stationers' Registers on Dec. 1, I595. The following excerpts from the play afford some striking parallels with the ballad:

1-18. Cf. Act 1, Sc. i.


Mount. Barwicke is woon; Newcastle spoyld and lost, l.128.
And now the tyrant hath beguirt with seege
The Castle of Rocksborough, where inclosd
The Countess Salisbury is like to perish.

King. That is thy daughter, Warwicke, is it not ?
Whose husband hath in Brittayne serud so long ?

40-1. Cf. Act 1, Sc. ii.

King. Lady, stand up; I come to bring thee peace, l. 113.
Howeuer therby I haue purchast war.

47-100. Cf. Act II, SC. i.

Countess. Sorry I am to see my liege so sad: l. 194.
What may thy subiect do to driue from thee
Thy gloomy consort, sullome melancholie ?

. . .

King. Since I came hither, Countes, I am wronged. l. 199.

Count. Now God forbid than anie in my howse
Should thincke my soueraigne wrong ! Thrice gentle king
Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.

King. How neer then shall I be to remedie.

Count. As nere, my Liege, as all my woman's power
Can pawne it selfe to buy thy remedy.

King. If thou speakst true, then haue I my redresse:
Ingage thy power to redeeme my Ioyes,
And I am ioyfull, Countes; els I die.

Count. I will, my Liege.

King. Sweare, Countes, that thou wilt.

Count. By heauen, I will. l. 210

King. Then take thy selfe a litel waie a side
And tell thy self, a king doth dote on thee:
Say that within thy power (it) doth lie
To make him happy, and that thou hast sworne
To giue him all the Ioy within thy power:
Do this, and tell me when I shall be happie.

Count. All this is done, my thrice dread souereigne:
That power of loue, that I haue power to giue,
Thou hast with all deuout obedience;
Imploy me how thou wilt in profe therof. l. 220.

King. Thou hearest me saye that I do dote on thee.

Count. Yf on my beauty, take yt if thou canst.

. . .

0, were it painted, I would wipe it of l. 229.
And dispossesse my selfe, to giue it thee.

King. Didst thou not swere to giue me what I would ? l. 243.

Count. I did, my liege, so what you would I could.

King. I wish no more of thee then thou maist give:

. . .

That is, thy loue; and for that loue of thine l. 247.
In rich exchaunge I tender to thee myne.

Count. That loue you offer me you cannot giue l. 251
For Caesar owes that tribut to his Queene;

. . .

I know, my souereigne, in my husbands loue, l. 271.
Who now doth loyal seruice in his warrs,
Doth but so try the wife of Salisbury,
Whether shee will heare a wantons tale or no,
Lest being therein giulty by my stay,
From that, not from my leige, I tourne awaie

. . .


King. Here comes hir father: I will worke with him. l. 293

. . .

Warwick. How is it that my souereigne is so sad? l. 295.

The king in the play now proceeds to trap Warwick in the same way as he had trapped the countess. This device is not repeated in the ballad.

125-8. War. I am not Warwike as thou thinkest I am, l. 380.
But an atturnie from the Court of hell,

. . .

To do a message to thee from the king. l. 383.
The mighty king of England dotes on thee !

. . .

129-40. War. Ile say, it is true charitie to loue, l. 361.
But not true loue to be so charitable;
Ile say his greatnes may beare out the shame,
But not his kingdome can buy out the sinne;
Ile say, it is my duety to perswade
But not her honestie to giue consent

. . .

Count. No, let me die, if his too boystrous will l. 427.
Will haue it so, before I will consent
To be an actor in his gracelesse lust.

War. Why, now thou speakst as I would haue thee speake:
And marke how I vnsaie my words againe.
An honourable graue is more esteemd
Then the polluted closet of a king!

. . .

So leaue I with my blessing in thy bosome,
Which then conuert to a most heauie curse, l. 445.
When thou conuertest from honors golden name
To the blacke faction of bed blotting shame.

57-82. Act II, Sc. ii.

Count. My father on his blessing hath commanded l. 124.

King. That thou shalt yeeld to me ?

Count. I, deare my liege, your due.

. . .

But . . .
I bynd my discontent to my content, l. 135.
And what I would not Ile compel I will,
Prouided that your selfe remoue those lets
That stand betweene your highnes loue and mine.

King. Name them, faire Countesse, and, by heauen I will.

Count. It is their liues tbat stand betweeoe our loue, l. 140.
That I would haue chokt vp, my soueraigne.

King. Whose liues, my Lady?

Count. My thrice louing liege,
Your Queene and Salisbury.

. . .

Here by my side doth hang my wedding knifes; l. 173.
Take thou the one, and with it kill thy Queene,
And learne by me to finde her where she lies;
And with this other lle dispatch my loue,
Which now lies fast a sleepe within my hart.

And if thou stir, I strike- therefore, stand-still l. 182.
And heare the choyce that I will put thee to:
Either sweare to leaue thy most vnholie sute
And neuer hence forth to solicit me;
Or else, by heauen, this sharpe poynted knyfe
Shall staine thy earthe with that which thou would staine,
My poore chast blood.

King. Euen by that power I sweare, that glues me now
The power to be ashamed of my selfe,
I neuer meane to part my lips againe
In any words that tends to such a sute.

The text of the ballad is defective and might perhaps be justly emended.

53. (she said) is probably a misprint for (said she).


Other copies: Rox. ii. 406; Bagford, i. 48, ii. 36; Pepys, iii. 148, &c; Woood, E 25. fol. II; Percy, &c.

Entered to Wm White, in the Stationers Registers, June 11, 1603, and assigned over on Dec. 14, 1624, to Pavier, Wright, and others. The hero was apparently one of Essex's comrades in the Cadiz expedition of 1576. It scarcely seems profitable to discuss his historical existence as Sir Richard Levison, Sir John Popham, or Sir John Bolle. A full account of the various traditions may be found in the Ballad Society's reprint of the Roxburghe Ballads.

62. Prest (cf. p. 384, 1. 38), is used in the sense of ready. Dixon quotes from the old version of Ps. civ: `Lightnings to serve we see also prest.'

63-4. English wives were counted proverbially fortunate, and reasons are given by Emanuel von Meteren: `Their time they employ in walking and riding, in playing at cards or otherwise, in visiting their friends and keeping company, conversing with their equals (whom they term gossips) and their neighbours, and making merry with them at childbirths, christenings and funerals; and all this with the permission and knowledge of their husbands, as such is the custom.... This is why England is called the Paradise of married women.' Besant's dor London, pp. 269-70.

6. A FAREWELL TO LOUE. (Page 378.)

This and the two following poems are in quite a different style from the rest of Deloney's known poetry. The Farewell to Loue also occurs in William Byrd's Medius (1588), no. 25, with the omission of the last verse. It may be that Deloney himself appropriated these poems from other sources for his own collection, but more probably they were added by the printer to an earlier edition to bring the volume up to the required size. On the other hand there is just the possibility that they are really Deloney's work, and that the change of style is solely due to an effort to reach a different audience.

The text of the Farewell to Loue in the Garland, is somewhat defective. The following is the version in Byrd's Medius:

Farewell false loue, the oracle of lyes,
A mortall foe, and enemie to rest:
An enuious boye, from whome all cares aryse,
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possest:
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrarie vnto reason.

A poysoned serpent couered all with flowers,
Mother of sighes, and murtherer of repose,
A sea of sorows, from whence are drawen such showers,
As moysture lend to euerie griefe that growes,
A schole of guile, a net of deepe deceit,
A guilded hooke, that holds a Povsoned bayte.

A fortresse foyld, which reason did defend,
A syren song, a feuer of the minde,
A maze wherein affection finds no ende,
A ranging cloud that runnes before the winde,
A substance like the Shadow of the Sunne,
A goale of griefe for which the wisest runne.

A quenchlesse fire, a nurse of trembling feare,
A path that leads to perill and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and dispayre,
An idle boy that sleepes in pleasures lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seemes,
A hope of that which reason doubtfull deemes.


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Greg Lindahl