rris-dance, thy Whitsun-ale,
Thy sheering feast, which never faile,
Thy harvest home, thy wassaile bowle,
That's tost up after Foxi'th'hole,
Thy mummeries, thy twelfth-tide kings,
And quenes, thy Christmas revellings,
Thy nut-browne mirth, thy russet wit,
And no man pays too deare for it.'

('Foxi'th'hole' is a hopping game, in which boys beat each other with
gloves.)

Herrick was fortunate in having a kind and hospitable neighbour. Sir
Edward Giles was famed for his uprightness and generous disposition, and
was looked up to by all the neighbourhood. He succeeded to 'a large park
and very handsome house,' whose existence was partly due to the problem
of the unemployed that was perplexing the benevolent more than three
hundred years ago; for John Giles, 'to the honour of his memory ...
began building of the house, and setting up the walls about his park, in
the time of a very great dearth; whereby hundreds of poor men ... were
daily fed at his table, who else together with their families in
probability would have perished for want.' Sir Edward succeeded
immediately to his father, who was 'a good old gentleman,' with a taste
for small jokes that must have been sometimes a little tedious. The son
had too 'active and vigorous a spirit' to rest 'within the compass of an
island, wherefore ... he travelled beyond the seas,' and in the Low
Countries 'trayl'd a pike in her Majesty's service, Queen Elizabeth of
glorious memory.' Having carved for himself a high reputation, he came
to the court of King James, to find that his fame had preceded him, and
he received the honour of knighthood at the time of the King's
coronation. This gave the old knight a chance for a little jest, which
his son must have found rather exasperating. When he came home, his
father received him with all ceremony, though 'more jocularly than
seriously ... saluted him with his title of Sir Edward Giles at every
word, and by all means would place him above him, as one dignified with
the more honourable degree; until at length inquiring of him: "Sir
Edward, pray tell me," said the old gentleman, "who must discharge the
fees and charges of your knighthood and honour?" Being answered, "That
he hoped he would be pleased to do that," "Nay, then," says the old
gentleman, "come down, Sir Edward Giles, and sit beneath me again, if I
am he that must pay for thy honour."' One can imagine his beaming
satisfaction over it all!

Among Si