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 140 she to think of the indecorous Bacchanalian catches of Lyly and Middleton, or of the uncompromising vulgarity of that famous song from "Gammer Gurton's Needle," or of the unseemly jollity of Cleveland's tavern-bred, tavern-sung verse?

Yet after discarding these ribald songs, with which refined femininity is not presumed to sympathize, there still remain such charming verses as Ben Jonson's

Or, if this be too scholarly and artificial, there are the far more beautiful lines of Beaumont and Fletcher:—