A coller he cast upon his necke, Hee seemed a gentleman. And when he came to the ladyes chambere, He thrild upon a pinn.* The lady was true of her promise, And rose and lett him. 'Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille, A single word he sed.' He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe, 35 40 45 But home then came that lither ladd, 50 Awake, awake, my deere master, The cock hath well-nigh crowen. I hold it time to be gone. 55 This is elsewhere expressed twirled the pin,' or 'tirled at the pin,' [see b. ii. s. vi. v. 3,] 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. For I have saddled your horse, mastèr, And I have served you a good breakfast: Glasgèrion swore a full great othe, Ladye, I was never in chambère, your 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-kniffe, That hanged by her knee: V. 77, litle. MS. 70 75 80 Sayes, there shall never noe churlès blood Within my bodye spring: No churlès blood shall eer defile The daughter of a kinge. Home then went Glasgèrion, And woe, good lord, was hee. Sayes, come thou hither, Jacke my boy, If I had killed a man to night, Jacke, I would tell it thee: But if I have not killed a man to night, 85 90 VIII. Old Robin of Portingale. From an ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS. which was judged to require considerable corrections. In the former edition, the hero of this piece had been called Sir Robin, but that title not being in the MS. is now omitted. LET never again soe old a man As did old Robin of Portingale; Who may rue all the dayes of his life. For the mayors daughter of Lin, god wott, And thought with her to have lived in love, They scarce were in their wed-bed laid, And scarce was hee asleepe, 5 10 But shee rose, and forth shee goes, To the steward, and gan to weepe. Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles? Or be you not within? Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles, Arise and let me inn. 15 O, I am waking, sweete, he said, Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes, All that beheard his litle footepage, As he watered his masters steed; His verry heart did bleed. He mourned, sighed, and wept full sore; The teares he for his master wept Were blent water and bloude. And that beheard his deare mastèr What causes thee to wail? Hath any one done to thee wronge 20 25 330 35 Ver. 19, unbethought, [properly onbethought]; this word is still used in the Midland counties in the same sense as bethought. V. 32, blend. MS. |