And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,

6

And a Begging we will go.

A Bag for my Oatmeal,
another for my Salt,

A little pair of Crutches,
to see how I can Halt:
And a Begging, etc.

A Bag for my Bread,

another for my Cheese, A little Dog to follow me to gather what I leese: And a Begging, etc.

11

16

A Bag for my Wheat,

another for my Rye,

A little Bottle by my side,

to drink when I'm a dry:

And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,
And a Begging we will go.

Seven years I served,
my old Master Wild;
Seven years I begged

Whilst I was but a Child:
And a Begging, etc.

I had the pretty knack,
for to wheedle and to cry;
By young and by old,
much pitied e'er was I.
And a Begging, etc.
Fatherless and Motherless[!]
still was my Complaint,
And none that ever saw me,
but took me for a Saint:
And a Begging we will go, etc.
I begg'd for my Master,

and got him store of Pelf;
But Jove now be praised,
I now beg for my self;
And a Begging, etc.
Within a hollow Tree,

I live, and pay no Rent;
Providence provides for me,
and I am well content,
And a Begging, etc.

Of all Occupations,

a Beggar lives the best,

For when he is a weary,

he'll lie him down and rest:

And a Begging, etc.

62

I fear no Plots against me,

but live in open Cell;

Why who would be a King,

when a Beggar lives so well?

And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,

And a Begging we will go.

68

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in Pye-corner.

[Black-letter; 1672-95. Date of original probably 1641.]

The West-Country Miser.

"That yellow wretch, that looks as he were stain'd
With watching his own gold; every one knows him
Enough to loathe him. Not a friend hath he,
Nor kindred nor familiar; not a slave,
Not a lean serving wench; nothing e'er enter'd
But his spare self within his jealous doors,
Except a wandering rat; and that, they say,

ANOTHE

Was famine-struck, and died there. What of him?"
-Milman's Fazio (5th edit., 1818).

NOTHER copy of this black-letter ballad is in the Pepys Collection, iv. 236. We have already written concerning the tune to which it is appointed to be sung, "If Love's a sweet passion," when giving prefatory notice of "The Weeping Lady," on p. 179. We can at present give no information concerning the alternative tune, "Fond Boy, [why dost thou dally?];" but compare Roxb. Coll., ii. 43.

The withholding of corn in time of scarcity, for the sake of obtaining inordinately high prices, was an offence that excited indignation among buyers, whatever might be thought of it by those who possessed granaries either full or empty. Therefore this ballad could not fail to be popular, especially if the harvest had been deficient that year, 1688. Among modern writers on the subject no one has more powerfully treated such an outburst of popular excitement than the author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." Therein, with all the vividness of reality, is a scene described, of the angry and famished mob surrounding the grainstore of the rich Quaker, and irritating him by their clamour until he casts the precious wheat from the window, into the river flowing underneath, amid their howls of execration.

In our Bagford Ballad the terrors of superstition are invoked to increase the effect of the moral lesson. Pious versifiers never seem to notice the absurdity of their making the Devil thus frighten his obedient servants out of the world, wherein they were doing their utmost to work all his purposes of mischief. It required a little more thought than the conventicle-rhymesters held at command, to understand that if the Fiend be so potent a director of events, he would not disarrange his well-laid plans by impatiently recalling the mammon-worshippers to himself. It is doubtless true that no evil-intelligence can be of the widest outlook, able to comprehend the whole present time, in its relation to past and future. Our ancestors seem to have felt delight in believing (we quote the title of Ben Jonson's comedy) "The Devil is an Ass." In holding him up to ridicule, they

weakened the sense of horror and abhorrence which they otherwise endeavoured to quicken. The ballad is, however, interesting as embodying the popular feelings, in language that suited its own class of readers. The author was of orthodox faith, and not a bitter sectary; as we may see by his mention of the Parish Church-gate and the Sermon having been newly heard, before the layman delivered his rebuke, with a somewhat selfrighteous rejoicing over the Farmer's misfortunes.

In the excellent satire entitled "Robin Conscience," which has been attributed to worthy old Martin Parker, and which first appeared as an 8vo. tract in 1635, and 1662 (compare Harleian Miscell., vol. i. and Percy Soc., i. pp. 69-88, of No. 2), occur the following lines. Conscience has been refused harbourage by all classes of courtiers and city-traders, who declare they cannot afford to be honest and listen to his remonstrances; he therefore turns to the country, hoping to find a better welcome, but with this result :—

Alas! what shall I do? thought I.
Poor Robin, must I starve and die?
Aye, that I must, if nobody
respect me.

At last I to my self bethought
Where I must go, and heaven brought
Me to a place where poor men wrought
most sorely;

And there they entertained me well,
With whom I ever mean to dwell,
With them to stay it thus befel,
though poorly.

Thus people that do labour hard
Have Robin Conscience in regard,
For which they shall have their reward
in heaven:

For all their sorrows here on earth,
They shall be filled with true mirth,-
Crowns shall to them at second birth
be given.