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The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,
Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry:
The king he laughed, and swore by the masse,
Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,
THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY'S POLICY.
[A VERY FAVORITE ANCIENT BALLAD.]
A riding along the way, sir;
Among the cocks of hay, sir.
Shall you and I, O lady faire,
Among the grass lye down-a:
Of rumpling of your gowne-a.
Upon the grass there is a dewe,
Will spoil my damask gowne, sir :
And cost me many a crowne, sir.
I have a cloak of scarlet red,
Upon the ground I 'll throwe it; Then, lady faire, come lay thy head;
We'll play, and none shall knowe it.
O yonder stands my steed so free
Among the cocks of hay, sir, And if the pinner should chance to see,
He 'll take my steed away, sir.
Its made of finest gold-a,
Out of the pinner's fold-a.
0 go with me to my father's hall;
Fair chambers there are three, sir: And you shall have the best of all,
And I 'll your chamberlaine bee, sir. He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on her dapple gray, sir: And there they rode to her father's hall,
Fast pricking along the way, sir.
To her father's hall they arrived strait;
'T was moated round about-a; She slipped herself within the gate,
And lockt the knight without-a.
Here is a silver penny to spend,
And take it for your pain, sir;
To wait on you back again, sir.
lle from his scabbard drew his brand,
And wiped it upon his sleeve-a! And cursed, he said, be every man,
That will a maid believe-a!
She drew a bodkin from her haire,
And wip'd it upon her gown-a; And curs'd be every maiden faire, That will with men lye down-a!
A herb there is, that lowly grows,
And some do call it rue, sir: The smallest dunghill cock that crows,
Would make a capon of you, sir.
A flower there is, that shineth bright,
Some call it mary-gold-a:
He shall not when he wold-a.
The knight was riding another day,
With cloak, and hat, and feather: He met again with that lady gay,
Who was angling in the river.
Now, lady faire, I've met with you,
You shall no more escape me; Remember, how not long agoe
You falsely did intrap me.
He from his saddle down did light,
In all his riche attyer;
I do thy charms admyer.
He took the lady by the hand,
Who seemingly consented;
She had a plot invented.
Methinks I now discover
My former constant lover.
Fast by the rivers brink-a;
Sir knight, now swim or sink-a.
The bottom faire he sounded; Then rising up, he cried amain,
Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded I
Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu !
You see what comes of fooling: That is the fittest place for you;
Your courage wanted cooling.
Ere many days, in her fathers park,
Just at the close of eve-a,
Which made this lady grieve-a.
False lady, here thou 'rt in my powre,
And no one now can hear thee: And thou shalt sorely rue the hour
That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me.
I pray, sir kuight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a:
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.
A gentle jest, in soothe he cry'd,
To tumble me in and leave me! What if I had in the river dy'd ?
That fetch will not deceive me.
Once more I'll pardon thee this day,
Tho' injur'd out of measure;
To yield thee to my pleasure.
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir : Let me pull off both spur and boot,
Or else you cannot stir, sir.
He set him down upon
grass, And begg'd her kind assistance: Now, smiling, thought this lovely lass,
I'll make you keep your distance. Then pulling off his boots half-way;
Sir knight, now I'm your betters : You shall not make of me your prey ;
Sit there like a knave in fetters.
The knight, when she had served him soe,
He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled : For he could neither stand nor goe,
But like a cripple tumbled.
Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten,
Yet do not move nor stir, sir :
To pull off your boots and spurs, sir.
This merry jest you must excuse,
You are but a stingless nettle:
Had you been a man of mettle.
All night in grievous rage he lay,
Rolling upon the plain-a;
Who set him right again-a.
By hill and dale he swore-a :
She shall escape no more-a.
I'll take her father by the beard,
I'll challenge all her kindred ;
My wrath shall no more be hindred,
He rode unto her father's house,
Which every side was moated : The lady heard his furious vows,
And all his vengeance noted. Thought shee, sir knight, to quench your rage,
Once more I will endeavour: This water shall your fury 'swage,
Or else it shall burn for ever.
Then faining penitence and feare,
She did invite a parley:
Henceforth I 'll love you dearly.