"fast asleepe, they put on his old robes, and so conveyed "him to the place where they first found him. Now "the fellow had not made them so good sport the day "before, as he did now, when he returned to himself: "all the jest was to see how he looked upon it. In con❝clusion, after some little admiration, the poore man "told his friends he had seen a vision; constantly be"lieved it; would not otherwise be persuaded, and so "the jest ended." Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, pt. ii. sec. 2. memb. 4. 2d ed. 1624, fol. This ballad is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, which is entitled as above. To the "tune of Fond boy." Now as fame does report a young duke keeps a court, Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest: A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground, 5 As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound. The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben, And they put him to bed for to take his repose. 10 15 Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over durt, Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state, The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd, Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit, From a convenient place, the right duke his good grace Did observe his behaviour in every case. 30 To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait, A fine A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests, In a rich chair 'or bed,' lin'd with fine crimson red, While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, 40 Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, 45 Till at last he began for to tumble and roul From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before. 50 Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain, For his glory to him' so pleasant did seem, That he thought it to be but a meer golden dream; 55 Till at length he was brought to the duke, where he sought For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought; But his highness he said, Thou 'rt a jolly bold blade, 60 Then Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak, Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome joak; Nay, and five hundred pound, with ten acres of ground, Thou shalt never, said he, range the counteries round, Crying old brass to mend, for I'll be thy good friend, 65 Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my duchess attend. Then the tinker reply'd, What! must Joan my sweet bride Be a lady in chariots of pleasure to ride? Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command? Then I shall be a squire I well understand : 70 Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace, I was never before in so happy a case. XVIII. THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. Dispersed through Shakespeare's plays are innumerable little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which could not be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity, the Editor was tempted to select some of them, and with a few supplemental stanzas to connect them together, and form them into a little TALE, which is here submitted to the Reader's candour. One small fragment was taken from Beaumont and Fletcher. IT |