122 
And as he was about to strike 
In him the deadly blow : 
Stay, quoth the judge, thy crueltie ; 
I charge thee to do so; 
Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have, 
Which is of flesh a pound: 
See that thou shed no drop of bloud, 
Nor yet the man confound. 
For if thou doe like murderer, 
Thou bere shalt hanged be : 
Likewise of flesh see that thou cut 
No more than longes to thee. 
For if thou take either more or lesse 
To the value of a mite, 
Thou shalt be hanged presently, 
As is both law and right. 
The rest is wel! known. 
“ The Passionate Shepherd to his 
Love” is a beautiful old sonnet quoted 
in the Merry Wives of Windsor, and 
erroneously ascribed to Shakspeare. 
The real author was Christopher Mar- 
low, a dramatic writer of some repute, 
who lost his life by a stab received in a 
brothel, before the year 1593. Isaac 
Walton has inserted it in his ‘* Com- 
plete Augler,”? under the character of 
“ that smooth song, which was made by 
_ Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years 
ago.’ Sir Walter Raleigh wrote the 
“ Nymph’s Reply to the Passionate 
Shepherd,” but we can only insert a 
part of the latter, which has beeu fre- 
quently imitated : 
Live with me, and be my love, 
And we wil ali the pleasures prove 
That hils and valies, dale and field, 
And all the craggy mountains yield. 
. There will we sit upon the rocks, 
And see the shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow rivers, to whose falis. 
Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
Then will I make thee beds of reses 
With a thousand fragrant posies, 
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, 
imbrodered all with leaves of mirtle. 
_A belt of straw, and ivie buds, 
With coral clasps, and amber studs ; 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Then live with me, and be my love. 
The sweet little sonnet which fol- 
lows has also been ascribed to Shak- 
speare with as little authority ; the first 
stanza is found in “ Measure for Mea- 
sure,” and both are preserved in Beau- 
mont and Fletcher’s “Bloody Brothe:” 
Take, oh take those lips away, 
That so sweetlye were forsworne, 
And those eyes, the breake of day, 
Lights that do misleade the morne: 
But my kisses bring againe, 
Scales of love, but seal’d in vaine. 
Beduties of the Old Ballad. 
[ Mareh 1; 
Hide, oh hide those hills of snowe, 
Which thy frozen bosom beares, 
On whose tops the pinkes that growe, 
Are of those that April wears: 
But first set my poor heart free, 
Bound in those icy chaines by thee. 
“ King Leirand his three Daugters,”’ 
an ancient ballad, bears so exact an ana- 
logy to the argument of Shakspeare’s 
play, that there can be little doubt of 
its being the foundation of his tragedy. 
It is too long for insertion, and the first 
stanza is only given as a specimen of 
the metre: 
King Leir once ruled in this land, 
With princely power and peace, 
And had all things with heart’s content, 
That might his joys increase : 
Amongst those things that nature gave, 
Three daughters fair had he, 
So princely seeming beautiful, 
As fairer could not be. 
What follows is of a different charac- 
ter, and was intended by the poet lau- 
reate of the day to celebrate the glories 
of Agincourt. The homeliness of this 
laureate effusion would incline one to 
think that something has appended to 
this office at all times, to depress the 
holders below their cotemporaries in 
every thing except maudlin piety and 
courtly adulation. We give the first 
stanza of this carmen triumphale as a 
curiosity : 
Oure kynge went forth to Normandy, 
With grace and myzt of chivalry ; 
The God for iim wrouzt marvelously, 
Wherefore Englande may calle and cry, 
Deo gratias, Sc. 
The humorous and lively deserip- 
tion of the “ Dragen of Wantley,” a 
rapacious overgrown attorney, shows 
the vigorous strokes with which the 
- hallad-makers struck out their charac- 
fers: 
This Dragon had two furious wings, 
Each one upon each shoulder ; 
With a sting in his tay! as long as a flayl, 
Which made him bolder and bolder. 
He had long claws, and in his jaws 
Four and forty teeth of iron ; 
With a hide as tough as any buff, 
Which did him round environ. 
But it is in scenes of tenderness the beau- 
ties of theBallad shine most bewitching- 
ly. The Childe (aname formerly given 
to knights) of Elle,” is particularly ad- 
mired for its affecting simplicity. We 
can conceive nothing more touching 
and dignified than the following : 
The Baron he stroakt his dark-brown 
cheek, 
And turnde his heade asyde 
To 
