O master, master, then quoth hee,
Lay your head downe on this stong
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone.

But up then rose that lither1 ladd
And hose and shoone did on:
A coller he cast upon his necke;
Hee seemed a gentleman.

And when he came to the ladie's chamber,

He thrild upon a pinn ;"

The lady was true of her promise,

Rose up, and lett him in.

He did not take the lady gaye

To boulster or to bed:

'Nor, thoughe hee had his wicked wille,
'A single word he sed.'

He did not kisse that ladye's mouthe,
Nor when he came, nor youd;3
And sore mistrusted that ladye gay,
He was of some churl's bloud.

But home then came that lither ladd,
And did off his hose and shoone;
And cast the coller from off his necke:
He was but a churle's sonne.

Awake, awake, my deere master,
The cock hath well-nigh crowen;
Awake, awake, my master deere,
I hold it time to be gone.

For I have saddled your horsse, mastèr,
Well bridled I have your steede ;
And I have served you a good breakfast:
For thereof ye have need.

Up then rose good Glasgeriòn,
And did on hose and shoone ;
And cast a coller about his necke:
For he was a kinge his sonne.

1 Lither-worthless.

2 This is elsewhere expressed "twirled the pin," or "tirled at the pin," and seems to refer to the turning round the button on the outside of a door, by which the latch rises, still used in cottages.

3 Youd-went.

And when he came to the ladye's chamber,
He thrild upon the pinne:

The ladye was more than true of promise,
And rose and let him inn.

left with me

Saies, whether have you
Your bracelett or your glove?
Or are you returned backe againe
To know more of my love?

Glasgèrion swore a full great othe,
By oake, and ashe, and thorne ;1
Lady, I was never in your chambèr,
Sith the time that I was borne.

O then it was your lither foot-page;
He hath beguiled mee;

Then shee pulled forth a little pen-knìffe,

That hanged by her knee.

Sayes, there shall never noe churlè's blood
Within my body spring:

No churles blood shall ever defile

The daughter of a kinge.

Home then went Glasgèrion,

And woe, good lord, was hee;

Sayes, come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.

If I had killed a man to night,

Jacke, I would tell it thee:

But if I have not killed a man to night,
Jacke, thou hast killed three.

And he puld out his bright brown sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,

And he smote off that lither ladd's head,
Who did his ladye grieve.

He sett the sword's poynt till his brest,
The pummil untill a stone:

Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd,
These three lives were all gone.

1 Mr. Finlay thinks that of the meaning of these three oaths nothing satis factory can be said; but in the thorn he suspects an allusion to the Crown of Thorns.

OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE.

Corrected from the folio MS.

LET never again soe old a man
Marrye soe yonge a wife,

As did old Robin of Portingale;

Who may rue all the dayes of his life.

For the mayor's daughter of Lin, god wott,
He chose her to his wife,

And thought with her to have lived in love,
But they fell to hate and strife.

They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe,

But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,
To the steward, and gan to weepe.

Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir1 Gyles?
Or be you not within ?

Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles
Arise and let me inn.

O, I am waking, sweete, he said,
Sweete ladye, what is your will ?
I have unbethought2 me of a wile
How my wed-lord weell spill.3

Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes,
That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozèns,
Will helpe to dinge1 him downe.

All that beheard his litle footepage,
As he watered his master's steed;
And for his master's sad perìlle
His verry heart did bleed.

He mourned still, and wept full sore;
I sweare by the holy roode
The teares he for his master wept
Were blent water and bloude.

1 The title of "Sir" is given to the steward, not as being a knight, but as, probably, belonging to some inferior order of priesthood.

2 Unbethought-properly onbethought, for bethought, and still used in the Midland counties.

3 Spill-destroy.

* Dinge-knock.

And that beheard his deare mastèr
As he stood at his garden pale:
Sayes, Ever alacke, my litle foot-page,
What causes thee to wail ?

Hath any one done to thee wronge,
Any of thy fellowes here ?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
That thou shedst manye a teare?

Or, if it be my head bookes-man,1
Aggrieved he shal bee:
For no man here within my
Shall doe wrong unto thee.

howse

O, it is not your head bookes-man,
Nor none of his degree:

But, on to-morrow ere it be noone
All deemed to die are yee.

head steward,

And of that bethank your
And thank your gay ladie.
If this be true, my litle foot-page,
The heyre of my land thoust bee.

If it be not true, my dear mastèr,
No good death let me die.

If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,
A dead corse shalt thou lie.

O call now downe my faire ladye,
O call her downe to mee:
And tell my ladye gay how sicke,
And like to die I bee.

Downe then came his ladye faire,
All clad in purple and pall:
The rings that were on her fingers,
Cast light thorrow the hall.

What is your will, my owne wed-lord?
What is your will with mee?
O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,
And like to die I bee.

1 Bookes-man-clerk, or secretary.
2 Deemed-doomed.

And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord,
Soe sore it grieveth me:

But my five maydens and myselfe
Will 'watch thy' bedde for thee.

And at the waking of your first sleepe,
We will a hott drinke make:

6

And at the waking of your next' sleepe,
Your sorrowes we will slake.

He put a silk cote1 on his backe,
And mail of manye a fold:

And hee putt a steele cap on his head,
Was gilt with good red gold.

He layd a bright browne sword by his side,
And another att his feete:

"And twentye good knights he placed at hand, To watch him in his sleepe.'

And about the middle time of the night,
Came twentye-four traitours inn :
Sir Giles he was the foremost man,
The leader of that ginn.

Old Robin with his bright browne sword
Sir Gyles' head soon did winn:
And scant of all those twenty-four
Went out one quick3 agenn.

None save only a litle foot page,

Crept forth at a window of stone:

And he had two armes when he came in,

And he went back with one.

Upp then came that ladie gaye
With torches burning bright:

She thought to have brought sir Gyles a drinke,
Butt she found her owne wedd knight.

The first thinge that she stumbled on
It was sir Gyles his foote:

Sayes, Ever alacke, and woe is mee!
Here lyes my sweete hart-roote.

Cote-coat.

2 Ginn-plot.

3 Quick-alive.