He 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 whip'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 that wold not when he might,

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.

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The lady blushed scarlet red,
And trembled at the stranger:
How shall I guard my maidenhead
From this approaching danger?

He from his saddle down did light,
In all his riche attyer;

And cryed, As I am a noble knight,

I do thy charms admyer.

He took the lady by the hand,

Who seemingly consented;

And would no more disputing stand:
She had a plot invented.

Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray,

Methinks I now discover

A riding upon his dapple gray,

My former constant lover.

On tip-toe peering stood the knight,

Fast by the rivers brink-a ;

The lady pusht with all her might:
Sir knight, now swim or sink-a.

O'er head and ears he plunged in,

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The bottom faire he sounded; Then rising up, he cried amain,

Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded!

Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu!
You see what comes of fooling:

That is the fittest place for you;
Your courage wanted cooling.

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Ere many days, in her fathers park,
Just at the close of eve-a,

Again she met with her angry sparke;

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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 knight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a:
I vow and swear I thought no harm,
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.

A gentle jest, in soothe, he cryd,

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;
But then prepare without delay
To yield thee to my pleasure.

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Well then, if I must grant your suit,

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 the grass, KA VOOR MI 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 soe,
He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled ;
For he could neither stand nor goe,

But like a cripple tumbled.

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Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten,

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Yet do not move nor stir, sir:
I'll send you my father's serving men,

To pull off

boots and your

spurs,

sir.

This merry jest you must excuse,

You are but a stingless nettle:

You'd never have stood for boots or shoes,

Had you been a man of mettle.

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All night in grievous rage he lay,

Rolling upon the plain-a;

Next morning a shepherd past that way,

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Who set him right again-a.

Then mounting upon his steed so tall,

By hill and dale he swore-a:

I'll ride at once to her father's hall;

She shall escape no more-a.

I'll take her father by the beard,
I'll challenge all her kindred;

Each dastard soul shall stand affeard;

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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:

Sir knight, if you'll forgive me heare,

Henceforth I'll love you dearly.

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