THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. Now ponder well, you parents deare, Sore sicke he was, and like to dye, In love they lived, in love they dyed, The one a fine and pretty boy, Not passing three yeares olde; The other a girl more young than he As plainlye doth appeare, When he to perfect age should come, And to his little daughter Jane Their uncle should possesse their wealth; "Now, brother," said the dying man, "Look to my children deare; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friendes else have they here: To God and you I recommend "You must be father and mother both, God knowes what will become of them, With that bespake their mother deare, "And if you keep them carefully, They kist their children small: "God bless you both, my children deare;" With that the teares did fall. These speeches then their brother spake The parents being dead and gone, A twelvemonth and a daye, But, for their wealth, he did devise He bargained with two ruffians strong, That they should take these children young, He told his wife an artful tale: To be brought up in faire London, Away then went those pretty babes, They should on cock horse ride. To those that should their butchers be, So that the pretty speeche they had, Yet one of them more hard of heart The other won't agree thereto, The babes did quake for feare! He took the children by the hand, And two long miles he ledd them on, While they for food complaine: "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread, When I come back againe." These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and downe; But nevermore could see the man Their prettye lippes with blackberries, And when they sawe the darksome night, They sat them downe and cryed. Thus wandered these poor innocents, Did cover them with leaves. And now the heavy wrathe of God Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearfull fiends did haunt his house, His conscience felt an hell; His barnes were fired, his goodes consumed, His cattle dyed within the field, And in a voyage to Portugal And to conclude, himselfe was brought He pawned and mortgaged all his land And now at length this wicked act The fellowe, that did take in hand As here hath been displayed: You that executors be made, Of children that be fatherless, JEALOUS FOOLS AND ENVIOUS FOOLS. BY ALEXANDER BARCLAY. (From "The Ship of Fools," nominally a translation from Sebastian Brant's "Narrenschiff," but really an independent poem, cast in a separate mold, of material chiefly Barclay's own.) [SEBASTIAN BRANT of Strasburg-born 1458, died 1521— was a lawyer, and town clerk of Strasburg. His "Narrenschiff" was published in 1494, and was enormously popular all through Europe and among all classes.] [ALEXANDER BARCLAY was probably born in Scotland, about 1475; died in England in 1552. He was a monk, priest in the College of Ottery St. Mary, and later a London rector.] OF HIM THAT IS JEALOUS OVER HIS WIFE, AND WATCHETH HER WAYS WITHOUT CAUSE OR EVIDENT TOKEN OF HER MISLIKING. HE THAT his wife will counterwait and watch, And feareth of her living by his jealous intent, Is as great fool as is that witless wretch That would keep flies under the sun fervent, Or in the sea cast water, thinking it to augment; Orestes was never so blind and mad as is he Which for his wifè taketh thought and charge, Lest that some other his harness should overcharge; If she be naught, there is no remedy. Thou fool, I prove thy watching helpeth naught, In vain thou slayest thyself with care and pain, For lock her fast and all her lookès mark, |