“Exclude the scriptures, and bid them read the story Of Robin Hood and Guy, which was both tall and stout, And Bevis of Southampton, to seek the matter out. Suffer all slander against God and his truth, And praise the old fashion in king Arthur’s days, Of abbays and monasteries how it is great ruth To have them plucked down, and so the eldest says; And how it was merry when Robin Hood’s plays Was in every town, the morrice and the fool, The maypole and the drum, to bring the calf from school, With Midge, Madge and Marion, about the pole to dance, And Stephen, that tall stripling, to lead Volans dance, With roguing Gangweeke, a goodly remembrance, With beads in every hand, our prayers stood by tale: This was a merry work, talk among our meany, And then of good eggs ye might have twenty for a penny.” L. Ramsey’s Practice of the Divell, b. l. All the entire poems and songs known to be extant will be found in the following collection; but many more may be traditionally preserved in different parts of the country which would have added considerably to its value.[67] That {lxxxii} some of these identical pieces, or others of the like nature, were great favourites with the common people in the time of Queen Elizabeth, though not much esteemed, it would seem, by the refined critic, may, in addition to the testimonies already cited, be inferred from a passage in Webbe’s Discourse {lxxxiii} of English Poetrie, printed in 1586. “If I lette passe,” says he, “the unaccountable rabble of ryming ballet-makers and compylers of sencelesse sonets, who be most busy to stuffe every stall full of grosse devises and unlearned pamphlets, I trust I shall with the best sort be held excused. For though many such can frame an alehouse-song of five or sixe score verses, hobbling uppon some tune of a northern jygge, or Robyn Hoode, or La lubber, &c. and perhappes observe just number of sillables, eyght in one line, sixe in an other, and therewithall an A to make a jercke in the ende, yet if these might be accounted poets (as it is sayde some of them make meanes to be promoted to the lawrell), surely we shall shortly have whole swarmes of poets; and every one that can frame a booke in ryme, though, for want of matter, it be but in commendations of copper noses, or bottle ale, wyll catch at the garlande due to poets: whose potticall (poeticall, I should say) heades, I woulde wyshe, at their worshipfull comencements, might, in steede of lawrell, be gorgiously garnished with fayre greene barley, in token of their good affection to our Englishe malt.” The chief object of this satire seems to be William Elderton, the drunken {lxxxiv} ballad-maker, of whose compositions all but one or two have unfortunately perished.[68]