PROLOGUE
To the Right Honourable the
Ld. Visc. Bolingbroke.
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O, I who erst beneath a tree,Sung Bumpkinet and Bowzybee,And Blouzelind and Marian bright,In apron blue or apron white,Now write my sonnets in a Book, For my good lord Bolingbroke. As lads and lasses flood around To hear my boxen haut-boy sound, Our clerk came posting o'er the green With doleful tidings of the Queen;That Queen, he said, to whom we oweSweet peace that maketh riches flow; That Queen who eas'd our tax of late, Was dead, alas!———and lay in state.
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