Farewell rewards and Faeries, Good houswives now may say, For now foule slutts in daries Doe fare as well as they. And though they sweepe theyr hearths no less Then maydes were wont to doe, Yet who of late for cleaneliness, Finds sixe-pence in her shoe? Lament, lament, old abbies, The Faries lost command; They did but change priests babies, But some have changd your land: And all your children sprung from thence Are now growne Puritanes; Who live as changelings ever since For love of your demaines. At morning and at evening both You merry were and glad, So little care of sleepe or sloth These prettie ladies had; When Tom came home from labour, Or Ciss to milking rose, Then merrily merrily went theyre tabor, And nimbly went theyre toes. Wittness those rings and roundelayes Of theirs, which yet remaine, Were footed in queene Maries dayes On many a grassy playne; But since of late, Elizabeth, And later, James came in, They never daunc’d on any heath As when the time hath bin. By which wee note the Faries Were of the old profession; Theyre songs were Ave Maryes; Theyre daunces were procession: But now, alas! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas; Or farther for religion fled, Or elce they take theyre ease. A tell-tale in theyre company They never could endure, And whoe so kept not secretly Theyre mirth was punisht sure; It was a just and christian deed To pinch such blacke and blew: O how the common welth doth need Such justices as you! Now they have left our quarters A register they have, Who looketh to theyre charters, A man both wise and grave; An hundred of theyre merry prancks By one that I could name Are kept in store, conn twenty thanks To William for the same. I marvell who his cloake would turne When Pucke had led him round[115], Or where those walking-fires would burne, Where Cureton would be found; How Broker would appeare to be, For whom this age doth mourne; But that theyre spiritts live in thee, In thee, old William Chourne. To William Chourne of Stafford shire Give laud and prayses due, Who every meale can mend your cheare With tales both old and true: To William all give audience, And pray yee for his noddle, For all the Faries evidence Were lost, if that were addle. A NON SEQUITUR. (From “Wit Restored,” 8vo. 1658.)