Skip and trip it on the green,

And help to choose the Summer Queen;
Lash out at a country feast

Their silver penny with the best.

Well can they judge of nappy1 ale,
And tell at large a winter tale;
Climb up to the apple loft,

And turn the crabs till they be soft.

Tib is all the father's joy,

And little Tom the mother's boy.

All their pleasure is content;

And care, to pay their yearly rent.

Joan can call by name her cows

And deck her window with green boughs;
She can wreaths and tutties2 make,
And trim with plums a bridal cake.
Jack knows what brings gain or loss,
And his long flail can stoutly toss;
Makes the hedge which others break,
And ever thinks what he doth speak.

Now, you courtly dames and knights,
That study only strange delights;
Though you scorn the homespun gray
And revel in your rich array;
Though your tongues dissemble deep,
And can your heads from danger keep;
Yet, for all your pomp and train

Securer lives the silly swain.

1 nappy, strong.

2 tutties, nosegays.

The word still survives in Dorset dialect.

IGNOTO.

LXIII. PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME.

From a broadsheet of about 1600, in the Roxburghe Collection. See the Rev. J. W. Ebsworth's edition of the Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 460. This is the earliest of the various 17th-century versions of the poem, which differ greatly.

H! what a plague is love,

OH!

How shall I bear it?

She will unconstant prove,
I greatly fear it.

It so torments my mind,
That my strength faileth.
She wavers with the wind,
As the ship saileth.

Please her the best you may,
She looks another way.
Alas and well a day!

Phillida flouts me.

At the fair yesterday,
She did pass by me;
She look'd another way,
And would not spy me.
I woo'd her for to dine,

I could not get her.

Dick had her to the wine,
He might entreat her.
With Daniel she did dance,
On me she would not glance.
Oh thrice unhappy chance!
Phillida flouts me.

Fair maid, be not so coy,
Do not disdain me.

I am my mother's joy,
Sweet, entertain me.

She'll give me when she dies,
All things that's fitting,
Her poultry and her bees
And her geese sitting;
A pair of mallard's beds,
And barrel full of shreds:

And yet for all this goods,
Phillida flouts me.

Thou shalt eat curds and cream,

All the year lasting;

And drink the crystal stream,

Pleasant in tasting;

Whig1 and whey till thou burst

And bramble berries,

Pie-lid and pasty-crust,

Pears, plums, and cherries.
Thy raiment shall be thin,
Made of a wether's skin;
All is not worth a pin,
Phillida flouts me.

Cupid hath shot his dart,
And hath me wounded;
It prick'd my tender heart,
And ne'er rebounded.

I was a fool to scorn
His bow and quiver;

I am like one forlorn,
Sick of a fever.

Now I may weep and mourn,

1 whig, a drink made of whey.

Whilst with Love's flames I burn; Nothing will serve my turn; Phillida flouts me.

I am a lively lad,
Howe'er she take me;

I am not half so bad,
As she would make me.
Whether she smile or frown,
She may deceive me.
Ne'er a girl in the town,
But fain would have me.
Since she doth from me fly,
Now I may sigh and die,
And never cease to cry
Phillida flouts me.

In the last month of May
I made her posies;
I heard her often say
That she loved roses.
Cowslips and gilliflowers
And the white lily,

I brought to deck the bowers

For my sweet Philly.

But she did all disdain,

And threw them back again;
Therefore it's flat and plain
Phillida flouts me.

And wanton Winifred
Favours me greatly.

One cast milk on my clothes,
T'other play'd with my nose;
What wanton toys are those?
Phillida flouts me.

I cannot work and sleep
All at a season;

Grief wounds my heart so deep,
Without all reason.

I fade and pine away,
With grief and sorrow;
I fall quite to decay
Like any shadow;
I shall be dead, I fear,
Within a thousand year;
All is for grief and care;
Phillida flouts me.

She hath a clout of mine
Wrought with good Coventry1,

Which she keeps for a sign

Of my fidelity.

But i' faith, if she frown,

She shall not wear it;

I'll give it Doll my maid,

And she shall tear it.

Since 't will no better be,

I'll bear it patiently;

Yet all the world may see

Phillida flouts me.

1Coventry, cloth of Coventry blue.