Act 5 — SCENE III.
Reading edition
Enter Ditty, a ballad-man.
Ditty. Come, new books, new books; newly printed and newly come forth! All sorts of ballads and pleasant books! The Famous History of Tom Thumb and Unfortunate Jack,[239] A Hundred Godly Lessons, and Alas, poor Scholar, whither wilt thou go? The second part of Mother Shipton's Prophecies, newly made by a gentleman of good quality, foretelling what was done four hundred years ago, and A Pleasant Ballad of a bloody fight seen i' th' air, which, the astrologers say, portends scarcity of fowl this year. [Sings a ballad.
Enter Budget.
Bud. Have you the Ballad of the Unfortunate Lover?
Ditty. No, but I have George of Green or Chivy Chase, Collins and the Devil, or Room for Cuckolds; I have anything but that.
Bud. Have you the Coy Maid?
Ditty. I sold that just now; but I have the Ballad of the London 'Prentice, Guy of Warwick, or The Beggar of Bethnal Green.
Bud. What loves-ongs have you? I would have a wooing ballad.
Ditty. I have twenty of them. Look you, here's one, and although I say it myself, as good a one as ever trod upon shoe-leather.
Bud. What is't? Good Ditty, let me hear it.
Ditty. The honest Milkmaid, or I must not wrong my Dame.
Bud. Have you never a one called The honest Fresh Cheese and Cream Woman?
Ditty. I do not remember that; but here is another, you shall hear me sing it.
Once did I love a maiden fair, Down derry, down, down, down, down derry; With silver locks and golden hair, Down derry, &c.; Her cheeks were like the rose so sweet, Down derry, &c.; Like marble pillars were her feet, Down derry, &c.
How like you this? 'Tis a rare tune, and a very pleasant song.
Bud. I like the song well; but I would have a picture upon it like me.
Ditty. Look you here; here's one as like you as if it had been spit out of your mouth; your nose, eye, lip, chin; sure, they printed it with your face! and the most sweetest ballad that ever I sung—
My love and I to medley, Upon a time would go: The boatmen they stood ready, My love and I to row; Where we had cakes and prunes, And many fine things mo; But now, alas, she has left me: Fa la, fa lero, lo!
Bud. This is the ballad I'll have. Come, Ditty, thou shalt teach me to sing it, and I'll pay thee at the next good house. [Exeunt.