Through Waltham-Desert; where I did perform
Many achievements, and did lay on ground
Huge Barbaroso, that insulting giant,
And all his captives soon set at liberty.
Then honour prick'd me from my native soil
Into Moldavia, where I gain'd the love
Of Pompiona, his beloved daughter;

But yet proved constant to the black-thumb'd maid,

Susan, and scorned Pompiona's love;
Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins,
And money for her father's officers.
I then returned home, and thrust myself
In action, and by all men chosen was
Lord of the May; where I did flourish it,
With scarfs and rings, and poesy in my hand.3
After this action I preferred was,

And chosen city-captain at Mile-End,

With hat and feather, and with leading staff,
And train'd my men, and brought them all off clear,
Save one man that bewrayed him with the noise.
But all these things I Ralph did undertake,
Only for my beloved Susan's sake.

Then coming home, and sitting in my shop
With apron blue, Death came into my stall
To cheapen aquavita; but ere I

Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste,
Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my face and body o'er,
And in an instant vanished away.

"Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction, i'faith!"

(

3 And poesy in my hand.] The orthography varied by Sympson to posie. Ed. 1778.

There is no occasion to vary the orthography. Poesy is continually used in the same sense as posy in old plays; but, in the present case, it refers to the rhymes which Ralph reads at the conclusion of the fourth act, standing as May-lord on the conduit. VOL. I.

S

Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand,
And walked into Moorfields to cool myself:
But there grim cruel Death met me again,
And shot this forked arrow through my head;
And now I faint; therefore be warn'd by me,
My fellows every one, of forked heads!
Farewell, all you good boys in merry London!
Ne'er shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet,
And pluck down houses of iniquity;

(My pain increaseth) I shall never more
Hold open, whilst another pumps
both legs,
Nor daub a sattin gown with rotten eggs;
Set up a stake, oh, never more I shall!
I die! fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers' Hall!
Oh, oh, oh, &c.

66

Wife. Well said, Ralph! do your obeisance to the gentlemen, and go your ways. go your ways. Well said, Ralph!" [Exit RALPH. Mer. Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly reconciled, should not depart without a

Better music ne'er was known
Than a quire of hearts in one.
Let each other, that hath been
Troubled with the gall or spleen,
Learn of us to keep his brow
Smooth and plain, as ours are now!
Sing, though before the hour of dying;
He shall rise, and then be crying,
"Heyho, 'tis nought but mirth
That keeps the body from the earth."

[Exeunt.

EPILOGUS.

"Cit. Come, Nell, shall we go? the play's done.

"Wife. Nay, by my faith, George, I have more manners than so; I'll speak to these gentlemen first.-I thank you all, gentlemen, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child! and if I might see you at my house, it should go hard but I would have a pottle of wine, and a pipe of tobacco for you; for truly I hope you do like the youth; but I would be glad to know the truth: I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no; for I will wink, and, whilst, you shall do what you will. I thank you with all my heart. God give you good night!-Come, George." [Exeunt.

END OF VOLUME FIRST.

EDINBURGH:
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