And with these words, her lillie handes She wrunge full often there; And downe along her lovely face Did trickle many a teare. But nothing could this furious queene Therewith appeased bee; The cup of deadlye poyson stronge, As she knelt on her knee, She gave this comelye dame to drinke; Who tooke it in her hand, And from her bended knee arose, And on her feet did stand, And casting up her eyes to heaven, Shee did for mercye calle; And drinking up the poison stronge, Her life she lost withalle. And when that death through everye limbe Had showde its greatest spite, Her chiefest foes did plain confesse Shee was a glorious wight. Her body then they did entomb, When life was fled away, At Godstowe, neare to Oxford towne, As may be seene this day. Phillida and Corydon In the merrie moneth of Maye, In a morne by break of daye, With a troope of damselles playing Forthe 'I yode' forsooth a maying; When anon by a wood side, Where that Maye was in his pride, I espied all alone Phillida and Corydon. Much adoe there was, God wot: He wold love, and she wold not. She sayde, "Never man was trewe;" He sayes, "None was false to you." He sayde, hee had lovde her longe; She sayes, love should have no wronge. Corydon wold kisse her then; She sayes, "Maydes must kisse no men, "Tyll they doe for good and all." When she made the shepperde call All the heavens to wytnes truthe, Never loved a truer youthe. Then with manie a prettie othe, Yea and nay, and faithe and trothe, Suche as seelie shepperdes use When they will not love abuse, Love, that had bene long deluded, Was with kisses sweete concluded; And Phillida with garlands gaye Was made the lady of the Maye. Fair Margaret and Sweet William As it fell out on a long summer's day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer's day, And could not talk their fill. "I see no harm by you, Margaret, And you see none by mee; Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock A rich wedding you shall see." Fair Margaret sat in her bower-wind w, Combing her yellow hair; There she spyed sweet William and his bride, As they were a riding near. Then down she layd her ivory combe, And braided her hair in twain: She went alive out of her bower, But ne'er came alive in't again. When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Marg'ret, And stood at William's feet. "Are you awake, sweet William?" shee said, "Or, sweet William, are you asleep? God give you joy of your gay bride-bed, And me of my winding sheet."