o friendes else have they here:

"To God and you I do commend
My children deare this daye;
But little while be sure we have
Within this world to staye.

"You must be father and mother both,
And uncle all in one;
God knowes what will become of them,
When I am dead and gone."

[Illustration]

With that bespake their mother deare:
"O brother kinde," quoth shee,
You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or miserie:

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

"And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deedes regard."

[Illustration: WITH LIPPES AS COLD AS ANY STONE, THEY KIST THE CHILDREN
SMALL]

With lippes as cold as any stone.
They kist the children small:
'God bless you both, my children deare;'
With that the teares did fall.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

These speeches then their brother spake
To this sicke couple there:
"The keeping of your little ones,
Sweet sister, do not feare:

"God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children deare,
When you are layd in grave."

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THEIR PARENTS BEING DEAD & GONE, THE CHILDREN HOME HE
TAKES.]

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And bringes them straite unto his house,
Where much of them he makes.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a daye,
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both awaye.

He bargain'd with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take the children young,
And slaye them in a wood.

[Illustration]

He told his wife an artful tale,
He would the children send
To be brought up in faire London,
With one that was his friend.

[Illustration]

Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide,
Rejoycing with a merry minde,
They should on cock-horse ride.

[Illustration: AWAY THEN WENT THE PRETTY BABES REJOYCING AT THAT TIDE]

[Illustration]

They prate and prattle pleasantly
As they rode on the waye,
To those that should their butchers be,
And work their lives' decaye:

So that the pretty speeche they had,