The Roxburghe ballads . together: Hut this tho world shall shew, what did rny heart and Which he no sooner saying, but from his bosoms drawnII bj him I • Of d, and so his Wbsm Ciori* though rt did and M Ff. no sooner dying, bot OlorU that way prying,Beheld her i . at which with fear being Non-pin She started ; bnt desire made her full soon drawWhenl.\ the root she knew, « heart mi I And that her charming B anty, to which he d duty, Had b» erthrowii r known Bui righd, Woes me! try incr Hi- i ferae, f did his hi >e. M The which no longer heari rolden tr< oing, Her ivor fill smiting, distra
The Roxburghe ballads . together: Hut this tho world shall shew, what did rny heart and Which he no sooner saying, but from his bosoms drawnII bj him I • Of d, and so his Wbsm Ciori* though rt did and M Ff. no sooner dying, bot OlorU that way prying,Beheld her i . at which with fear being Non-pin She started ; bnt desire made her full soon drawWhenl.\ the root she knew, « heart mi I And that her charming B anty, to which he d duty, Had b» erthrowii r known Bui righd, Woes me! try incr Hi- i ferae, f did his hi >e. M The which no longer heari rolden tr< oing, Her ivor fill smiting, distraction so ineiti Ami frantick loud did clamour, nor could the wood-:: I rme her, Bnl • Pake antrne, ti. Lore She through the groves docs wander, tracing each meander, and her .1^ : And conrforl I bat quite of set She crys, **Ah tn pint0. Printed \r I. Brooksby, at tho Golden-Ball, in West tmithfield. In Blaei letter. Two woodcuts: the woman and young man, hoth on p. in.[).>.•, 1,-: :. I !. to p. 123.]. 417 a mournful Carol: jfrankm ann Cornelia. gg.—A made a finer end and went away an it bad been a Christom cbild ;a parted even just between twelve and one. even at the turning o the tide :for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smileupon his fingers ends, I knew there was but one way ; for bis nose was assharp as a pen on a table o green frieze. * How now. Sir John ! quoth I:what, man ! be of good cheer. So a cried out God. God, God ! threeor four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of God;I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts a hade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed andfelt them, and they were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his knees, andthey were as cold as any stone, and so upward and upward, and all was ascold as any stone.—King Henry V., Act ii. scene 3. THE chief woodcut of the Mournful Carol, on our next page,illustrates Dame Quieklys pat
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Keywords: ., bookauthorchappell, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1879
