Chapter X: Appendix: I

THE KING AND THE BARKER

Library of the University of Cambridge, MS. Ee. iv, 35. 1, fol. 19 b. Written mostly in couplets of long lines, sometimes in stanzas of four short lines, with omissions, transpositions, and other faults.

It will be observed that neither in this tale nor in the “history” which follows does the tanner become aware that he has been dealing with “our kyng.” In both he calls the king “good fellow” to the very last. What happens at the meeting with Lord Basset, 30, is not made quite intelligible. It must be that Lord Basset and his men fall on their knees, but the conviction that “this” is the king seems to make no great difference in the tanner’s bearing.

1
Well yow here a god borde
to make yow all low,
How het ffell apon a tyme,
or en_e_y man het know?

2
The kyng rod a hontyng,
as _þat_ tyme was;
Ffor to hont a der_e_
Y trow hes hope was.

3
As he rode, he houer-
toke yn the wey
A tannar off Dantre,
yn a queynte ar_a_ye.

4
Blake kow-heydes sat he apon,
the hornys heyng be seyde;
The kyng low and had god game
to se the tannar reyde.

5
Howr_e_ kyng bad hes men abeyde,
_and_ he welde sper of hem the wey;
‘Yffe Y may her_e_ eney now tythyng,
Y schall het to yow saye.’

6
Howr_e_ kyng prekyd _and_ seyde,
Ser, God the saffe!
The tannar seyde,
Well mot yow ffar_e_!

7
‘God ffellow,’ seyde yowr_e_ kyng,
‘offe on thyng Y þe pray;
To Drayton Baset well Y reyde,
wych_e_ ys the wey?’

8
‘That can Y tell the
ffro hens þ_a_t Y stonde;
When þow comest to the galow-tre,
torne vpon þe lyft honde.’

9
‘Gram_e_rcy, ffellow,’ seyde owr_e_ kyng,
‘w_i_t_h_owtyn eney wone,
I schall prey the lord Baset
thanke the sone.

10
‘God ffellow,’ seyde owr_e_ kyng,
‘reyde þow w_i_t_h_ me
Tell Y com to Drayton Baset,
Now Y het se.’

11
‘Nay, be mey ffeyt,’
seyde the barker thoo,
‘Thow may sey Y wer_e_ a ffole,
_and_ Y dyd so.

12
‘I hast yn mey wey as well
as þow hast yn theyne;
Reyde fforthe _and_ seke they wey;
þi hors ys bett_er_ nar meyne.’

13
The tanner seyde,
What maner man ar ye?
‘A preker abowt,’ seyd _þ_e kyng,
‘yn maney a contre.’

14
Than spake the tanner,
ffoll scrodel_e_y ayen;
Y had a brother vowsed the same,
tell he cowde never the[n].

15
Than _yo_wr_e_ kyng
smotley gan smeyle:
‘Y prey the, ffelow,
reyde w_i_t_h_ me a meyle.’

16
‘What, devell!’ q_uo_d the tann_er_,
‘art þ_o_u owt off they wet?
Y most hom to mey deyner_e_,
ffor I am ffastyng yet.’

17
‘Good ffelow,’ seyde owr_e_ kyng,
‘Car_e_ _þ_e not ffor no mete;
_Þo_u schalt haffe mete ynow to neyȝt,
_and_ yeffe _þo_u welt ette.’

18
The tanner toke gret skorne of hem,
_and_ sware be Creystys pyne,
Y trow Y hafe mor_e_ money yn mey pors
nar thow hast yn theyne.

19
‘Wenest thow Y well be owt on neyȝt?
nay, _and_ God beffore;
Was Y neuer owt a-neyt
sen Y was bor_e_.’

20
The tanner lokyd a bake tho;
the heydes began to ffall;
He was war of the keyng_es_ men,
where they cam reydyng all.

21
Thes ys a theffe, thowt the tann_er_,
Y prey to God geffe hem car_e_;
He well haffe mey hors, mey heydes,
_and_ all mey chaffar_e_.

22
‘Ffor ffeleyschepe,’ seyde the tannar,
‘y[e]t well Y reyde w_i_t_h_ the;
Y wot, war_e_ Y mete w_i_t_h_ the afft_er_ward,
thow mast do as meche ffor me.’

23
‘God amar[sey],’ seyde owr_e_ kyng,
‘w_i_t_h_owt eney wone,
Y schall prey þe lord Baset
to thanke the sone.’

24
Owr_e_ kyng seyde, What now tydyng
herest [_þo_u] as _þo_u [dost] ryd?
I wolde ffayne wot,
ffor _þo_w reydest weyde.

25
‘Y know [no] now teytheyng,’ þe tanner seyde,
herke _and_ _þo_u schalt her_e_;
Off al the chaffar that Y know,
kow-heydys beyt der_e_.’

26
_O_wr_e_ keyng seyde, On theyng
on mey loffe Y the prey;
What herest sey be the lord Baset
yn thes contrey?

27
‘I know hem not,’ seyde the tann_er_,
‘w_i_t_h_ hem Y hafe lytyll to don;
Wolde he neuer bey of me
clot-lether to clowt w_i_t_h_ schon.’

28
How_re_ kyng seyde, Y loffe the well,
of on thyng I þe praye;
Thow hast harde hes s_er_vantes speke,
what wolde þey saye?

29
‘Ye, ffor God,’ seyde the tann_er_,
‘þ_a_t tell Y can;
Thay sey thay leke hem well,
for he ys a god man.’

30
Thos they reyd together talkyng,
for soyt Y yow tell,
Tell he met þe lord Baset;
on kneys downe þey ffell.

31
Alas, the tann_er_ thowt,
the kyng Y leue thes be;
Y schall be honged, well Y wot,
at men may me se.

32
He had no meynde of his hode nor cape
ner_e_ a dell [more],
Al ffor drede off hes leyffe
he wende to haffe lo_re_.

33
The tann_er_ wolde a stole awey,
whyle he began to speke;
How_re_ kyng had yever an ey on hem,
that he meyt not skape.

34
‘God ffelow’, seyd owr_e_ kyng,
‘w_i_t_h_ me thow most abeyde,
Ffor þow _and_ Y
most an hontyng reyde.’

35
Whan they com to Kyng Chas,
meche game þey saye;
Howr_e_ kyng seyde, Ffelow, what schall Y do,
my hors ys so hey?

36
‘God ffelow,’ [seyde owr_e_ kyng,]
lend þow me theyne,
. . . . . . .
_and_ hafe here meyne.’

37
Tho the tannar leyt do[w]ne
_and_ cast a downe hes heydys;
Howr_e_ kyng was yn hes sadell,
no leyngg_er_ he beydes.

38
Alas, þeyn the tanner thowt,
w_i_t_h_ mey hors he well reyde awey;
Y well aft_er_,
to get hem _and_ Y may.

39
He welde not leffe his heydys beheynde
ffor no theyng. ..;
He cast them yn the kyng_es_ schadyll;
_Þat_ was a neys seyte.

40
Þo he sat aboffe them,
as Y [y]ouw saye,
He prekyd ffast aft_er_,
_and_ ffond þe redey wey.

41
The hors lokyd abowt hem,
_and_ sey on eu_er_y seyde
. . . . . .
the kow-hornes blake _and_ wheyte.

42
The hors went he had bor_e_
þe deuell on hes bake;
The hors prekyd as he was wode,
het mestoret to spor hem not.

43
The barker cleynt on hem ffast,
he was sore afferde ffor to ffall;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

44
The kyng lowhe [and had gode game,]
_and_ was glad to ffollow þe chas;
Lest þe tann_er_ wolde ber_e_ hem downe
yette he was agast.

45
The hors sped hem sweythyli,
he sped hem wonderley ffast;
Ayen a bow of an oke
the tann_er_es hed he brast.

46
W_i_t_h_ a stombellyng as he rode,
þe tann_er_ downe he cast;
The kyng lowhe _and_ had god game,
_and_ seyde, S_er_, _þo_u rydyst to ffast.

47
The kyng lowhe and had god game,
_and_ swar_e_ be Sent John,
Seche another horsman
say Y neuer_e_ none.

48
Owr_e_ kyng lowhe _and_ had god bord,
_and_ swar_e_ be Sent Jame,
Y most nedys lawhe,
_and_ thow wer_e_ mey dame.

49
‘Y bescro the same son,’
seyde the barker tho,
‘_Þa_t seche a bord welde haffe
to se hes dame so wo.’

50
When her hontyng was ydo,
þey changyd hors agen;
Þo the barker had hes howyn,
þeyrof he was ffayne.

51
‘God a marsey,’ seyd owr_e_ kyng,
‘of þey s_er_ueyse to daye;
Yeffe thow hafe awt to do w_i_t_h_ me,
or owt to saye,

52
They ffrende schall Y yeffor be,
Be God [þat] ys bet on;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . .

53
‘God a marsey,’ seyde þe barker þo,
‘thow semyst a ffelow god;
Yeffe Y met the yn Dantre,
þow schalt dreynke, be [þe] rode.’

54
‘Be mey ffeyt,’ seyde owr_e_ kyng,
‘or els wer_e_ Y to blame,
Yeffe Y met the yn Lecheffelde,
þow schalt hafe the same.’

55
Þus they rode talkyng togeder
to Drayton Hall;
Tho the barker toke hes leffe
of the lordes all.

56
Owr_e_ kyng comand þe barker
yn that tyde
A c. s’. yn hes pors,
to mend hes kow-heydys.

57
There owr_e_ kyng and the barker
p_ar_tyd ffeyr_e_ atwyn;
God _þa_t set yn heffen so hey
breyng os owt of sen!

Explycy_t_ þe Kyng _and_ the Barker.

* * * * *

1^2. lawhe all. _For_ low, _cf._ 4^3; lowhe, 44^1, 46^3, 47^1, 48^1.

6^4. ffare. _Read, perhaps, with rhyme_, haffe.

7^1, 15^1. yowre = owre: _cf._ yever, yeffor, 33^3, 52^1.

9^2. eney woyt: _see_ 23^2.

9^3. they.

11^1. be meyt; _cf._ 54^1.

12^1. I haffe hast?

14^1, 25^1, 31^1, 33^1, 37^1, 38^1, 46^2. thanner, thannar (_the_ th _caught from the preceding_ the).

14^3. yow (_struck through_) vowsed (_that is_, used).

19^2. be ffore.

22^3. y not: methe.

25^1. no _has been inserted because it occurs in the_

_other versions, but_ now (new), _simply, makes some sense_.

26^2. as mey. _Perhaps_, as thow me loffe.

27^4. schoys.

28^2. of 1.

34^{1,2}. God ffelow w_i_t_h_ me thow most abeyde seyd owr_e_ kyng.

38^2. he well reyde awey w_i_t_h_ mey hors.

39^1. le leffe.

_39^2. Words seem to have dropped out at the end._

42. _The rhyme might be restored thus_:

The hors went the deuell
on hes bake he had bor_e_;
The hors prekyd as he was wode,
het mestoret not hem to spor.

44^{3,4}. yeffe he was agast lest þe tann_er_ wolde ber_e_ hem downe.

45^3. a noke.

45^4. thann_er_es: barst.

48^2. Jane.

48^3. nedyst.

50^4. of ffayne.

55^1. to gederff.

II

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH AND A TANNER OF TAMWORTH

A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historie, betweene King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, etc.

=a.= London, John Danter, 1596, Bodleian Library, 4°, C. 39. Art. Seld. =b.= London, W. White, 1613, Corpus Christi College Library, X. G. 2. 11. 4th tract.

1
In summer-time, when leaues grou greene,
and blossoms bud on euery tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
some pastime for to see.

2
With hawke and hound he made him bound,
with horne and eke with bow;
Toward Drayton Basset he tooke his way,
whosoeuer doth it know.

3
But as our king on his way rode forth,
by eight a clocke of the day,
He was ware of a tanner of mery Tamworth,
was in a quaint aray.

4
A good russet coat the tanner had on,
he thought it mickle pride;
He rode on a mare cost foure shillings,
and vnder him a good cow-hide.

5
A paire of rough mittens the tanner did weare,
his hood was buckled vnder his chin;
‘Yonder comes a good fellow,’ said our king,
‘that cares not whether he lose or win.’

6
The tanner came singing on his mare,
with one so merry a note;
He sung out of tune, he was past care,
he had no neede to grease his throte.

7
‘Stand you here still, my lordes now,
vnder the greene wood spray,
And I will ride to yonder fellow,
to wit what he will say.

8
‘God speede, good fellow,’ said our king;
‘thou art welcom, sir,’ quoth he;
‘Which is the way to Drayton Basset,
I pray thee tell to me.’

9
‘Marry, that I will,’ quoth the tanner,
‘right as here I stand;
The next paire of gallows that thou comes to,
turne in vpon thy right hand.’

10
‘It is an vnready way,’ said our king,
‘I tell you, so mote I thee;
I pray you show me the readiest way
the towne that I may see.’

11
‘Go play the great jauel!’ quoth the tanner,
‘I hold thee out of thy wit;
All day haue I ridden on Brocke, my mare,
and I am fasting yet.’

12
‘Why, we will to the towne,’ said our king,
‘and of dainties [we will none lacke];
We will eate and drinke and fare of the best,
and I will pay for the shot.’

13
‘God haue mercy for nothing,’ quoth the tanner,
‘thou paiest for none of mine,
For I haue as many nobles in my purse
as thou hast pence in thine.’

14
‘God giue you ioy of yours,’ said our king,
‘and send thee well to priefe;’
The tanner would faine haue beene away,
for he wend he had beene a thiefe.

15
‘What art thou, good fellow?’ quoth the tanner,
‘of thee I am in great feare,
For the clothes that thou wearest on thy back
are not for a lord to weare.’

16
‘I neuer stole them,’ said our king,
‘I tell you, sir, by the rood;’
‘No, thou plaiest as many an vnthrift doth,
thou standst in the mids of thy good.’

17
‘What tidings heare you,’ said our king,
‘as you ride farre and neare?’
‘I heare no tidings,’ quoth the tanner,
‘but that cow-hides are deare.’

18
‘Cow-hides? cow-hides?’ then said our king,
‘I know not what they be;’
‘Lo, here thou maist see one;’ quoth the tanner,
‘here lyeth one vnder me.

19
‘Knowst thou not a cow-hide,’ quoth the tanner,
‘and hast gone so long to schoole?
If euer thou come to dwell in the country,
thou wilt be made a foole.’

20
‘What craftsman are you?’ said our king,
‘I pray you tell me now;’
‘I am a barker,’ quoth the tanner,
[‘What craftsman art thou?’]

21
‘I am a courtier,’ said our king,
‘forth of seruice I am worne;
Full faine I would be your prentise,’ he said,
‘your cunning for to learne.’

22
‘Marrie, God forbid,’ quoth the tanner,
‘that such a prentise I should haue;
He wold spend me more than he would get
by fortie shillings a yere.’

23
‘One thing would I wit,’ said our king,
‘if you will not seeme strange;
Thou my horse be better than your mare,
with you faine would I change.’

24
‘Nay, there thou liest yet,’ quoth the tanner,
‘by Christ, thou shalt abide;
For, if thou haue Brocke, my mare,
thou gets not my good cow-hide.’

25
‘I will not haue it,’ said our king,
‘I tell thee, so mote I thee;
I will not carrie it away
though you would giue it me.’

26
‘Why, then we must change,’ quoth the tanner,
‘as needs me thinke thou woot;
But if you haue Brocke, my mare,
I will looke to haue some boote.’

27
‘That were against reason,’ said our king,
‘I tell you, so mote I thee;
My horse is much better than your mare,
and that you may well see.’

28
‘Avise a vous now,’ sayd the tanner,
‘whether thou wilt or no,
For my mare is gentle and will not kicke,
but softlie she will go.

29
‘And thy horse is vnhappie and vnwieldie,
[and will neuer goe in rest,]
But alwaies skipping here and there,
and therefore my mare is best.’

30
‘What boot will you haue?’ then said our king,
‘tell me now in this tide;’
‘Neuer a single pennie,’ quoth the tanner,
‘but a noble of gold so red.’

31
‘Why, there is your noble,’ said our king,
‘well paid looke that you be;’
‘I would haue sworne on a book,’ quoth the tanner,
‘thou hadst not one pennie.’

32
Now hath the king the tanner’s mare,
she is nothing faire, fat nor round,
And the tanner hath the king’s good steede,
the saddle is worth fortie pound.

33
The tanner tooke vp the good cow-hide,
off the ground where he stood,
He threw it vpon the king’s steede,
in the saddle that was so good.

34
The steed stared vpon the hornes,
vnder the greene wood spraie;
He had weende the diuell of hell had bin come,
to carrie him thence away.

35
The tanner looked as fast on the stirrops,
astonied sore he was;
He meruailed greatly in his minde
whether they were gold or bras.

36
‘Help me [vp], good fellow,’ quoth the tanner,
‘lightly that I were gone;
My wife and my neighbours more and lesse
will say I am a gentleman.’

37
The king tooke the tanner by the leg,
and lift him vp a loft;
The tanner girded out a good round fart,
his belly it was so soft.

38
‘You make great waste,’ said our king,
‘your curtesie is but small;’
‘Thy horse is so high,’ quoth the tanner againe,
‘I feare me of a fall.’

39
But when the tanner was in the saddle
the steede began to blow and blast,
And against the roote of an old tree
the tanner downe he cast.

40
‘Abide, good fellow,’ said our king,
‘ye make ouer great hast;’
‘Thou shalt haue thy horse, with a vengeance, againe,
for my necke is well nigh brast.’

41
‘Why then we must change,’ said our king,
‘as me thinke needs thou woot;
But if you haue your mare againe
I will looke to haue some boote.’

42
‘What boote wilt thou haue?’ quoth the tanner,
‘tell me in this stound;
‘Neuer a groat nor pennie,’ said our king,
‘but of thy gold twentie pound.’

43
‘Nay, here is thy noble,’ quoth the tanner again,
‘and Christ’s blessing and mine;
‘Yea, here is twentie good groats more,
goe drinke them at the wine.’

44
‘So mote I thee,’ then said our king,
‘it shall not slacke my woe;
For when a noble is in small monie
full soone it is agoe.’

45
‘Dost thou loue to keepe gold?’ quoth the tanner,
the king answered and said, Ye;
‘Then I would thou were my neere kinsman,
for I thinke thou wilt thriue and thee.’

46
Now hath the tanner Brocke, his mare,
and vnder him his good cowhide,
Our noble king his horse againe,
which was a well faire steede.

47
‘Now farewell, good fellow,’ quoth the tanner,
‘I will bide no longer with thee;’
‘Tarrie yet a little while,’ said our king,
‘and some pastime we will see.’

48
Our king set a bugle to his mouth,
and blew a blast lowd and small;
Seuen score lords, knights, squires and yeome_n_
came riding ouer a dale.

49
‘Now out alas!’ quoth the tanner,
‘that euer I saw this tide;
Thou art a strong thiefe, yonder be thy fellowes,
will haue my mare and my cowhide.’

50
‘They are no theeues,’ then said our king,
‘I tell you, so mote I thee;
It is my lord of Drayton Basset
is come a hunting to me.’

51
But when before the king they came,
they fell downe on their knees;
The tanner had leuer than a thousand pound
he had beene from their companies.

52
‘A coller! a coller!’ our king gan call,
quoth the tanner, It will breede sorrow;
For after a coller commeth a halter,
I trow I shall be hangd tomorrow.

53
‘Be not afraid, tanner,’ said our king,
‘I tell thee, so mote I thee;
Lo, here I make thee the best esquier
in all the North Countrie.

54
‘And Plumton Parke I will giue thee,
and Iacie in [t]his tide--
It is worth three hundred pounds by yeare--
to prepare thy good cowhide.’

55
‘God a mercie, good fellow,’ quoth the tanner,
‘for this that thou hast done;
The next time thou comest to Tamworth town,
thou shalt haue clouting-leather for thy shon.’

56
Now God aboue speed well the plough,
and keepe vs from care and woe,
Vntill euerie tanner in [t]his countrie
[doe ride a hunting so.]

A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historie, betvveene King Edvvard the fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as he rode vpon a time with his nobles a (=b=, on) hunting toward Drayton Basset:

Verie pleasant and merrie to read.

=a.= Printed at London by John Danter, 1596. (_8 pages._)

=b.= At London, printed by W. White, 1613. (_8 pages._)

=b= _has for a heading_ The King and the Tanner.

=a.=

3^4. quaint of aray.

11^1. play thee.

12^2. _Defect supplied from_ =b=.

20^4. _Cut off; supplied from_ =b=.

26^2. thou wilt. _Cf._ 41^2.

29^2, 56^4. _Cut off; supplied from_ =b=.

43^1. quath.

=b.=

3^1. as the.

3^2. eight of the.

3^4. quaint of ray.

6^1. tanner he.

7^1. here _wanting_.

8^4. tell it me.

9^4. vp vpon.

10^2. so might.

11^1. play thee.

12^2. we will none lacke.

13^1. Godamercy.

15^2. I stand.

16^4. middes.

18^4. lies.

19^3. thou happen.

20^4. what craft-man art thou.

22^3. than I should.

23^1. I wish.

23^2. thou wilt.

23^3. then thy.

23^4. would I faine.

25^2, 27^2, 44^1, 50^2. mought.

25^4. thou wouldst.

26^2. thinkes thou wilt.

26^3. if thou.

27^3. than thy.

29^2. and will neuer goe in rest.

31^1. Why heere: said the.

31^3. would asworne.

33^3. king’s faire steed.

35^2. sore that he.

36^1. me up.

38^3. so hie.

40^4. welnie.

41^2. mee thinkes: thou wilt.

45^2. yea.

45^3. wert.

46^2. and _wanting_.

47^2. will no longer abide.

48^2. and he.

50^1. then _wanting_.

51^1. when they all before the king came.

51^3. had rather.

53^2. might.

53^4. that is in the.

54^2. Jackie in this.

56^3. Till: in this.

56^4. doe ride a hunting so.

III

KING HENRY II AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD

=a.= ‘Kinge and Miller,’ Percy MS., p. 235; Hales and Furnivall, II, 147. =b.= The Pleasant History of the Miller of Mansfield, in Sherwood, and Henry the Second, King of England, etc., Wood, 254, iv. Small octavo of twelve pages. Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, T. Vere, and William Gilbertson, 1655.

1
Henery, our royall k_ing_, wold goe a huntinge,
To the greene fforrest soe pleasant and fayre;
To haue the harts chased, the daintye does tripping,
To merry Sherwood his nobles repayre;
Hauke and hound was vnbound, all things p_re_pared
For the same to the game w_i_th good regard.

2
All a longe sum_m_ers day rode the k_ing_ pleasantlye,
W_i_th all his princes and nobles eche one,
Chasing the hart and hind and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the darke euening inforced them turne home.
Then at last, ryding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood in the darke night.

3
Wandering thus wearilye, all alone vp and downe,
W_i_th a rude miller he mett att the last;
Asking the ready way vnto fayre Nottingham,
‘S_i_r,’ q_uo_th the miller, ‘I meane not to iest,
Yett I thinke what I thinke; truth for to say,
You doe not lightlye goe out of yo_u_r way.’

4
‘Why, what dost thou thinke of me?’ q_uo_th our k_ing_ merrily,
‘Passing thy iudgment vpon me soe breefe.’
‘Good faith,’ q_uo_th the miller, ‘I meane not to flatter thee,
I gesse thee to bee some gentleman-theefe;
Stand thee backe in the darke! light not adowne,
Lest I p_re_sentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e!’

5
‘Thou doest abuse me much,’ q_uo_th our k_ing_, ‘saying thus;
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke.’
‘Thou hast not,’ q_uo_th the miller, ‘a groat in thy pursse;
All thine inheritance hanges on thy backe.’
‘I haue gold to discharge for _tha_t I call;
If itt be forty pence, I will pay all.’

6
‘If thou beest a true man,’ then said the miller,
‘I sweare by my tole-dish I’le lodge thee all night.’
‘Heere’s my hand,’ q_uo_th our k_ing_, ‘_tha_t was I eu_er_.’
‘Nay, soft,’ q_uo_th the miller, ‘thou mayst be a sprite;
Better I’le know thee ere hands I will shake;
W_i_th none but honest men hands will I take.’

7
Thus they went all alonge unto the millers house,
Where they were seething of puddings and souce.
The miller first entered in, then after went the k_ing_;
Neu_er_ came he in soe smoakye a house.
‘Now,’ q_uo_th hee, ‘let me see heere what you are;’
Q_uo_th our k_ing_, Looke you[r] fill, and doe not spare.

8
‘I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest fac[e];
With my sonne Richard this night thou shalt lye.’
Q_uo_th his wiffe, By my troth, it is a good hansome yout[h];
Yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye.
Art thou not a runaway? I pray thee, youth, tell;
Show vs thy pasport and all shalbe well.

9
Then our k_ing_ p_re_sentlye, making lowe curtesie,
W_i_th his hatt in his hand, this he did say:
I haue noe pasport, nor neu_er_ was seruitor,
But a poore courtyer, rode out of the way;
And for yo_u_r kindnesse now offered to me,
I will requite it in eu_er_ye degree.

10
Then to the miller his wiffe whisp_er_ed secretlye,
Saing, It seemeth the youth is of good kin,
Both by his apparell and by his manners;
To turne him out, certainely it were a great sin.
‘Yea,’ q_uo_th hee, ‘you may see hee hath some grace,
When as he speaks to his betters in place.’

11
‘Well,’ q_uo_th the millers wiffe, ‘younge man, welcome heer!
And tho I say’t, well lodged shalt thou be;
Fresh straw I will lay vpon yo_u_r bed soe braue,
Good browne hempen sheetes likwise,’ q_uo_th shee.
‘I,’ q_uo_th the goodman, ‘and when _tha_t is done,
Thou shalt lye [with] noe worse then our owne sonne.’

12
‘Nay first,’ q_uo_th Richard, ‘good fellowe, tell me true,
Hast thou noe creep_er_s in thy gay hose?
Art thou not troubled w_i_th the scabbado?’
‘Pray you,’ q_uo_th the k_ing_, ‘what things are those?’
‘Art thou not lowsye nor scabbed?’ q_uo_th hee;
‘If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with me.’

13
This caused our k_ing_ suddenly to laugh most hartilye
Till the teares trickled downe from his eyes.
Then to there supp_er_ were thé sett orderlye,
To hott bag-puddings and good apple-pyes;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle,
Wh_ic_h did about the bord merrilye troule.

14
’Heere,’ q_uo_th the miller, ’good fellowe, I’le drinke to thee,
And to all the courtnolls _tha_t curteous bee.’
’I pledge thee,’ q_uo_th our k_ing_, ’and thanke thee heartilye
For my good welcome in eu_er_ye degree;
And heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne.’
’Doe then,’ saies Rich_ard_, ’and quicke let it come.’

15
’Wiffe,’ q_uo_th the miller, ’feitch me forth lightfoote,
_Tha_t wee of his sweetnesse a litle may tast.’
A faire venson pastye shee feiched forth p_re_sentlye.
’Eate,’ q_uo_th the miller, ’but first, make noe wast;
Heer is dainty lightfoote.’ ’Infaith,’ q_uo_th our k_ing_,
’I neu_er_ before eate of soe dayntye a thinge.’

16
’Iwis,’ said Richard, ’noe dayntye att all it is,
For wee doe eate of it eu_er_ye day.’
’In what place,’ sayd our k_ing_, ’may be bought lik to th[is?]’
’Wee neu_er_ pay peennye for it, by my fay;
From merry Sherwood wee feitch it home heere;
Now and then we make bold w_i_th our kings deere.’

17
’Then I thinke,’ q_uo_th our king, ’_tha_t it is venison.’
’Eche foole,’ q_uo_th Richard, ’full well may see _tha_t;
Neu_er_ are we w_i_thout two or three in the rooffe,
Verry well fleshed and exellent ffatt.
But I pray thee say nothing where-ere thou goe;
We wold not for two pence the k_ing_ shold it know.’

18
’Doubt not,’ said our k_ing_, ’my p_ro_mised secresye;
The k_ing_ shall neu_e_r know more on’t for mee.’
A cupp of lambes woole they dranke vnto him,
And to their bedds thé past p_re_sentlye.
The nobles next morning went all vp and downe
For to seeke the k_ing_ in eu_er_ye towne.

19
At last, att the millers house soone thé did spye him plaine,
As he was mounting vpon his faire steede;
To whome thé came p_re_sentlye, falling downe on their knees,
W_hi_ch made the millers hart wofullye bleed.
Shaking and quaking before him he stood,
Thinking he shold be hanged by the rood.

20
The k[ing] p_er_ceiuing him fearfully tremblinge,
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he said;
The miller downe did fall crying before them all,
Doubtinge the k_ing_ wold cut of his head.
But he, his kind curtesie for to requite,
Gaue him great liuing, and dubd him a k_nigh_t.

21
When as our noble k_ing_ came from Nottingam,
And w_i_th his nobles in Westminster lay,
Recounting the sports and the pastime thé had tane
In this late p_ro_gresse along on the way,
Of them all, great and small, hee did p_ro_test
The miller of Mansfeild liked him best.

22
’And now, my l_or_ds,’ q_uo_th the k_ing_, ’I am determined,
Against St Georges next sumptuous feast,
_Tha_t this old miller, o_u_r youngest confirmed k_nigh_t,
W_i_th his sonne Richard, shalbe both my guest;
For in this merryment it is my desire
To talke w_i_th this iollye k_nigh_t and the younge squier.’

23
When as the noble lords saw the k_ing_s merriment,
Thé were right ioyfull and glad in their harts;
A pursiuant thé sent straight on this busines,
The w_hi_ch oftentimes vsed those p_ar_ts.
When he came to the place where he did dwell,
His message merrilye then he did tell.

24
’God saue yo_u_r worshippe,’ then said the messenger,
’And grant yo_u_r ladye her owne harts desire;
And to yo_u_r sonne Rich_ard_ good fortune and happinesse,
_Tha_t sweet younge gentleman and gallant squier!
Our k_ing_ greets you well, and thus doth say;
You must come to the court on St Georges day.

25
’Therfore in any case fayle not to be in place.’
’I-wis,’ q_uo_th the miller, ’it is an odd iest!
What shold wee doe there?’ he sayd, ’infaith I am halfe afraid.’
’I doubt,’ q_uo_th Richard, ’to be hanged att the least.’
’Nay,’ q_uo_th the messenger, ’you doe mistake;
Our k_ing_ p_re_pares a great feast for yo_u_r sake.’

26
’Then,’ said the miller, ’now by my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worshipp full well:
Hold! there is three farthings to quite thy great gentleness
For these happy tydings w_hi_ch thou dost me tell.
Let me see! hearest thou me? tell to our k_ing_,
Wee’le wayte on his mastershipp in eu_e_rye thing.’

27
The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye,
And making many leggs, tooke their reward,
And takeing then his leaue with great humilitye
To the k_ing_s court againe hee repayred,
Showing vnto his Grace in eu_e_rye degree
The k_nigh_ts most liberall giffts and great bountye.

28
When hee was gone away, thus can the miller say;
Heere comes expences and charges indeed!
Now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all wee haue;
For of new garments wee haue great need.
Of horsses and serving-men wee must haue store,
W_i_th bridles and sadles and twentye things more.

29
‘Tushe, S_i_r Iohn,’ q_uo_th his wiffe,
‘neither doe frett nor frowne,
You shall bee att noe more charges for mee;
For I will turne and trim vp my old russett gowne,
W_i_th eu_er_ye thing else as fine as may bee;
And on our mill-horsses full swift wee will ryd,
W_i_th pillowes and pannells as wee shall p_ro_vyde.’

30
In this most statelye sort thé rod vnto the court,
Their lusty sonne Rich_ard_ formost of all,
Who sett vp by good hap a cockes fether in his cappe;
And soe thé ietted downe towards the k_ing_s hall,
The merry old miller w_i_th his hands on his side,
His wiffe like Maid Marryan did mince at _tha_t tyde.

31
The k_ing_ and his nobles, _tha_t hard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant k_nigh_t w_i_th this braue traine,
‘Welcome, S_i_r K_nigh_t,’ q_uo_th hee,’ w_i_th this yo_u_r gay lady!
Good S_i_r Iohn Cockle, once welcome againe!
And soe is this squier of courage soe free.’
Q_uo_th Dicke, A botts on you! doe you know me?

32
Q_uo_th our k_ing_ gentlye, How shall I forgett thee?
Thou wast my owne bed-fellow; well _tha_t I wot.’
‘But I doe thinke on a tricke,’--‘Tell me, pray thee, Dicke!’
‘How w_i_th farting we made the bed hott.’
‘Thou horson [un]happy knaue,’ the[n] q_uo_th the k_nigh_t,
‘Speake cleanly to our [king,] or else goe shite!’

33
The king and his councellors hartilye laugh at this,
While the k_ing_ tooke them by the hand.
W_i_th ladyes and their maids, like to the q_ueene_ of spades
The millers wiffe did most orderlye stand,
A milkemaids curtesye at eu_er_ye word;
And downe these folkes were set to the bord.

34
Where the k_ing_ royally, w_i_th princely maiestye,
Sate at his dinner w_i_th ioy and delight;
When he had eaten well, to jesting then hee fell,
Taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the k_nigh_t.
‘Heere’s to you both!’ he sayd, ‘in ale, wine, and beere,
Thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere.’

35
Q_uo_th S_i_r Iohn Cockle, I’le pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottingam-shire.
‘But then,’ said our k_ing_, ‘I thinke on a thinge;
Some of yo_u_r lightfoote I wold we had heere.’
‘Ho, ho!’ q_uo_th Rich_ard_, ‘full well I may say it;
It’s knauerye to eate it and then to bewray it.’

36
‘What! art thou angry?’ q_uo_th our k_ing_ merrilye,
‘Infaith I take it verry vnkind;
I thought thou woldest pledg me in wine or ale heartil[y].’
‘Yee are like to stay,’ q_uo_th Dicke, ‘till I haue dind.
You feed vs w_i_th twatling dishes soe small;
Zounds! a blacke pudding is better then all.’

37
‘I, marry,’ q_uo_th our k_ing_, ‘_tha_t were a daintye thing,
If wee cold gett one heere for to eate.’
W_i_th _tha_t, Dicke straight arose,
and plucket one out of his h[ose,]
W_hi_ch w_i_th heat of his breech began for to sweate.
The k_ing_ made p_ro_fer to snatch it away;
‘It’s meate for yo_u_r m_aster_, good s_i_r, you shall stay!’

38
Thus w_i_th great merriment was the time wholy spent,
And then the ladyes p_re_pared to dance.
Old S_i_r Iohn Cockle and Rich_ard_ incontinent
vnto this practise the k_ing_ did advance;
Where w_i_th the ladyes such sport thé did make,
The nobles w_i_th laughing did make their heads ake.

39
Many thankes for their paines the k_ing_ did giue them then,
Asking young Richard if he wold be wed:
‘Amongst these ladyes faire, tell me w_hi_ch liketh thee.’
Q_uo_th hee, Iugg Grumball w_i_th the red head,
Shee’s my loue; shee’s my liffe; her will I wed;
Shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead.

40
Then S_i_r Iohn Cockle the k_ing_ called vnto him;
And of merry Sherwood made him ou_er_seer,
And gaue him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye:
‘But now take heede you steale noe more of my deere,
And once a quarter let’s heare haue yo_u_r vew;
And thus, S_i_r Iohn Cockle, I bid thee adew!’

* * * * *

=a.=

5^6. 40.

7^1. into.

7^2. seeding.

17^3. 2 or 3.

17^6. 2.

18^1. saiy.

26^3. 3.

28^6. 20^{tye}_{;}.

29^2. charges of.

31^6. abotts.

34^3. resting. =b=, jesting.

36^1. hungry. =b=, angry.

40^3. 300^{li}_{:}.

=b.=

1^1. would ride.

1^3. hart: and dainty.

1^4. Unto.

2^4. him turn.

2^6. late in dark.

3^4. miller, your way you have lost.

3^6. not likely.

4^1, 5^1, 13^1. the king.

4^4. but some.

4^5. light thee not down.

4^6. Lest that: knock thy.

5^2. I lack.

5^3. one groat.

5^5. discharge all that.

6^6. I will.

7^1. unto.

7^2. seething.

7^3. after him the.

8^3. good _wanting_.

8^4. for to

8^5. prethee.

8^6. Shew me.

9^2. thus he.

9^4. of my.

9^5. here offered.

10^2. this youth’s.

10^3. and eke by.

10^5. Yes.

10^6. When he doth speak.

11^3. wil have laid on.

11^4. hempten.

11^6. with no.

12^2. within.

12^3. Or art.

12^4. I pray, quoth.

12^5. or.

13^4. With a hot bag-pudding.

14^1. I drink thee.

14^2. courtnols where ever they be.

14^3. Ile pledge you: thank you.

14^4. For your.

14^5. to your.

14^6. Do so, quoth Richard, but.

15^3. pasty then brought she forth.

15^4. but fir.

15^5. then said our.

17^1. said our.

17^2. said Richard.

17^4. wondrous fat.

17^5. But prethee.

18^1. not then said.

18^3. him then.

18^6. seek out.

19^1. they espy’d.

19^6. should have been.

20^1. fearfull and.

20^4. would have cut off.

20^5. But his kind curtesie there to.

20^6. him a living.

21^1. came home.

21^3. and pastime.

21^4. this his progresse along by.

21^5. this he.

21^6. Mansfields sport.

22^3. our last.

22^4. both be my guests.

22^6. with this.

23^1. kings pleasantnesse.

23^3. there was sent: on the.

23^4. Which had many times been in.

23^6. message orderly.

24^2. owne _wanting_.

24^4. gallant young.

24^5. he greets you all.

25^2. this is.

25^3. said, faith.

25^4. to be _wanting_.

26^3. here’s: great _wanting_.

26^5. to your.

27^5. in each.

27^6. gift: great _wanting_.

28^1. When as: thus did.

28^3. we must: though wee sell.

29^2. charges for.

29^4. else _wanting_.

30^1. rode they.

30^5. hand.

31^2. his brave.

32^1. how should.

32^2. mine own.

32^3. doe _wanting_: me that prethee Dick.

32^4. How we: did make.

32^5. happie: then.

32^6. our king.

33^1. laught.

33^2. both by.

33^4. so orderly.

33^6. the folks were sate at the side-board.

34^1. in princely.

34^3. jesting then they.

34^5. wine, ale.

34^6. you all for your country cheere.

35^3. I doe think.

35^6. ’Tis.

36^1. Why, art thou angry.

36^3. ale and wine.

36^4. Y’are.

37^2. If a man could get one hot.

37^3. hose.

37^4. for _wanting_.

37^5. made a.

37^6. ’Tis: you must.

38^5. Here with.

38^6. their hearts.

39^1. did the king give.

39^3. ladies free.

39^5. she will.

40^6. bid you.

=b= _is printed with the long lines broken into two_.

FOOTNOTES:

[60] 1599, August 28, two plays, being the first and second part of [Thomas Heywood’s] ‘Edward the IIIJ^{th} and the Tanner of Tamworth,’ etc. Arber, III, 147.

[61] See an appendix to this ballad. White’s edition has verbal variations from the earlier, and supplies three lines and a half-line which have been cut off in the Bodleian copy of Danter. Heber had a copy of ‘King Edward 4th and the Tanner,’ printed by Edward Allde (1602-23), whether the “history” or the “ballad” does not appear.

[62] Printed by Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, 1791, p. 57. Given in an appendix.

[63] “Seemingly,” says Mr Chappell, “not one bound up with the collection of ballads.”

Selden, in the second edition of his Titles of Honor (for so he chooses to spell), 1631, p. 836, remarks: Nor is that old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward the Fourth so contemptible but that wee may thence note also an observable passage wherein the use of making Esquires by giving collars is expressed. He then quotes two stanzas from the history:

‘A coller! a coller!’ our king gan cry; Quoth the tanner, It will breed sorrow; For after a coller commeth a halter, I trow I shall be hangd to morrow.

‘Be not afraid, tanner,’ said our king; ‘I tell thee, so mought I thee, Lo, here I make thee the best esquire That is in the North Countrie!’

(This passage is not in the first edition, of 1614, as I am informed by Mr Macmath, who has copied it for me.) Percy says that he has “restored” one of his stanzas from the last of these two. The restoration might as well have been made from Danter’s history, which he was using. There is a trifling variation from Danter in the fourth verse, as given by Selden and repeated by Percy, which is found in White’s edition.

[64] ‘The King and the Barker’ is less extravagant and more rational here; the king simply orders the barker ‘a hundred shilling in his purse.’ But both the esquiring (knighting) and the estate are found in still older poems which remain to be mentioned.

[65] A pervasive boorishness, with some coarse pleasantry, distinguishes the seventeenth-century tales disadvantageously from the older ones.

[66] There is an entry of ‘Miller and King’ (among 128 ballads), December 14, 1624; another entry, June 30, 1625: Stationers’ Registers, Arber, IV, 131, 143. The broadside is in many of the collections: ‘A pleasant ballad of King Henry second and the Miller of Mansfield,’ Roxburghe, I, 178, 228, III, 853, the first reprinted by Chappell, Roxburghe Ballads, I, 537; Pepys, I, 528, No 272; Bagford, II, 25; Wood, 401, fol. 5 b, ‘A pleasant new ballad of the Miller of Mansfield in Sherwood and K. Henry the Second,’ Wood, 254, iv, ‘The pleasant history of the Miller of Mansfield,’ etc., dated 1655; Crawford, No 491. Also, ‘Kinge and Miller,’ Percy MS., p. 235, Hales and Furnivall, II, 147 (see Appendix); Percy’s Reliques, 1765, III, 179, the MS. copy “with corrections” from the Pepys.--Not in the ballad-stanza.

[67] John the Reeve is mentioned (in conjunction with Rauf Coilyear) by G. Douglas, Palice of Honour, 1501, Small, I, 65, v. 3, and by Dunbar, about 1510, Small, I, 105, v. 33; John the Reeve again by Lindsay, The Complaynt of the Papingo, 1530, Chalmers, I, 318.

[68] Reprinted in Laing’s Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, from the edition of St Andrews, 1572; thence in Charlemagne Romances, No 6, ed. S. J. Herrtage, Early English Text Society, 1882. As to the date, see Max Tonndorf, Rauf Coilyear, Halle a. S. 1893, p. 13 ff.

[69] So far 767 verses of 975: the rest is not pertinent and is very poor stuff. ‘Rauf Coilyear’ is a clever piece, but I cannot think with Mr Herrtage that it is “quite original.” Its exaggerations suggest a second hand; the author means to pepper higher with his churl’s discourtesy than had been done before. The ‘marshalling’ in 183-86 recalls ‘John the Reeve,’ 342-50.

[70] Printed in Hartshorne’s Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 35. Professor Kittredge has called my attention to a stanza of Occleve’s which shows that the belief that Edward III went about in disguise among his subjects prevailed not long after the king’s death.

O worthy kyng benigne, Edwarde the laste, Thow hadest ofte in thyne hart a drede impressede Whiche that thyne humble goste fulle sore agaste, And to knowe yf thow cursed were or blessede, Amonge the peple ofte hast thow the dressede Into the contrey, in symple aray alone, To heere what men seide of thy persone.

Occleve, De Regimine Principum, ed. Wright (Roxb. Club), p. 92.

[71] So John the Reeve; five or six times in each.

[72] Printed in The British Bibliographer, IV, 81, thence in Hartshorne’s Metrical Tales, p. 293, and, with some improvements from the MS., in Hazlitt’s Early Popular Poetry, I, 11. ‘The King and the Hermit’ is told as ‘the romans says,’ v. 15. It is, as Scott has explained, the source of a charming chapter (the sixteenth of the first volume) of ‘Ivanhoe.’ There are many agreements with ‘The King and the Shepherd.’

[73] Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, ed. Brewer, Speculum Ecclesiæ, IV, 213-15, about 1216.

[74] See Geoffrey of Monmouth, Hist. Reg. Brit., vi, 12, Wace, Roman de Brut, 7111-44, ed. Le Roux de Lincy, I, 329, Layamon’s Brut, 14297-332, Madden, II, 174 f.; and for other drinking-calls besides these, Wace, Roman de Rou, Part iii, 7357-60, ed. Andresen, II, 320.

[75] Preface to ‘The King and Miller of Mansfield.’

[76] 1578, September 25, licensed to Ric. Jones, ‘A merry Songe of a Kinge and a Shepherd:’ Arber, II, 338.

1624, December 14, to Master Pavier and others, among 128 ballads, ‘King and Shepperd:’ Arber, IV, 131.

Wood, 401, fol. 1 b; Douce, I, fol. I b; Euing, Nos 331, 332; Pepys, I, 76, No 36, I, 506, No 260; Crawford, No 648; Roxburghe, I, 504, printed by Chappell, III, 210.

[77] This is as old as Asser; Annales, Wise, Oxford, 1722, p. 30.

[78] ‘King James and the Tinker,’ Douce, III, fol. 126 b, fol. 136 b; no printer, place, or date. ‘King James the First and the Tinker,’ Garland of Mirth and Delight; no place or date. The same: ‘King James and the Tinkler,’ Dixon, in Richardson’s Borderer’s Table-Book, VII, 7, and Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, etc., p. 109, Percy Society, vol. xvii. ‘James V. and the Tinker,’ A. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 283. ‘King James the First and the fortunate Tinker,’ The King and Tinker’s Garland, containing three excellent songs, Sheffield, 1745, Halliwell, Notices of Fugitive Tracts, p. 29, No 36, Percy Society, vol. xxix (not seen). ‘The King and the Tinkler,’ a _rifacimento_, in Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 92; Kinloch MSS, V, 293.

[79] ‘The Loyal Forrister, or Royal Pastime,’ printed for C. Bates in Pye-Corner (c. 1696), Euing, No 156. ‘King William and his Forrester,’ no imprint, c. 1690-94, Crawford, No 1421. ‘The King and the Forrester,’ Roxburghe, III, 790, Ebsworth VII, 763 (Bow Church-Yard?). ‘King William going a hunting,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 101, from tradition.

[80] ‘The Royal Frolick,’ etc., Pepys, II, 313, in Ebsworth’s Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 756.

[81] ‘The Royal Recreation, or A Second Part, containing the passages between the Farmer and his Wife at their return home, where they found the King with his Noble Retinue.’ Pepys, II, 326, Roxburghe, II, 397, Ebsworth, VII, 761.

[82] ‘The King and the Cobler.’ Charles Dennison, at the sign of the Stationers’ Arms within Aldgate (1685-89, Chappell). Wood, 254, xi; Pepys, Penny Merriments, vol. i; Halliwell, Notices of Popular Histories, p. 48, Percy Society, vol. xxiii, Newcastle, without date; Manchester Penny Histories (last quarter of the eighteenth century), Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 482, No 6.

[83] Kulda, Moravské n. pohádky, etc., 1874, I, 56, No 20, in Wenzig, Westslavischer Märchenschatz, p. 179.

Tonndorf, in the dissertation already cited, remarks with truth that meetings of king and subject (or the like) are quite regularly a sequel or incident of a hunt, and refers to Grimms, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 550, 563, 566; Cardonne, Mélanges de Littérature orientale, pp. 68, 87, 110; Grässe, Gesta Romanorum, cap. 56, I, 87, Anhang, No 16, II, 198; Othonis Melandri Ioco-Seria, No 338, p. 292, ed. Frankfort, 1617. In four of these cases the noble person loses his way, and has to seek hospitality. In Deutsche Sagen, No 566, we have a charcoal-burner who relieves a prince’s hunger and is afterwards entertained at the prince’s table.

274

OUR GOODMAN

=A.= Herd’s MSS, I, 140; Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 172.

=B.= ‘The Merry Cuckold and Kind Wife,’ a broadside: Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office in Bow Church-Yard, London.

The copy in Ritson’s Scotish Song, I, 231, is from Herd, 1776; that in the Musical Museum, No 454, p. 466, is the same, with change of a few words. In Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 66, the piece is turned into a Jacobite ballad. The goodwife says she is hiding her cousin McIntosh; ‘Tories,’ says the goodman.

=B= was reprinted by Dixon in Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 211, Percy Society, vol. xvii, ‘Old Wichet and his Wife,’ from a copy “obtained in Yorkshire” and “collated” with the Aldermary broadside. The fifth adventure (in the closet) is lacking. Two or three staves, with variations for the better, are given from memory in Notes and Queries, First Series, VI, 118, as communicated by Mr R. C. Warde, of Kidderminster. (See the notes.)

Percy made =B= over in two shapes, whether for simple amusement or for the projected extension of the Reliques: ‘Old Wichet’s Discoveries,’ ‘Old Wichard’s Mistakes,’ among Percy’s papers.

=A.= Our goodman, coming home, sees successively a saddle-horse, pair of jack-boots, sword, powdered wig, muckle coat, finally a man, where none such should be. He asks the goodwife how this came about without his leave. She responds contemptuously that the things he has supposed himself to see are, respectively, a sow (milch-cow), a pair of water-stoups, a porridge-spurtle, a clocken-hen, a pair of blankets, a milking-maid, which her mother has sent her. Far has he ridden, but a saddle on a sow’s (cow’s) back, siller spurs on water-stoups, etc., long-bearded maidens, has he never seen.

=B.= In =B= Old Wichet comes upon _three_ horses, swords, cloaks, pairs of boots, pairs of breeches, hats, and in the end three men in bed. Blind cuckold, says the wife, they are three milking-cows, roasting-spits, mantuas, pudding-bags, petticoats, skimming-dishes, milking-maids, all presents from her mother. The like was never known, exclaims Old Wichet; cows with bridles and saddles, roasting-spits with scabbards, etc., milking-maids with beards!

A song founded on this ballad was introduced into the play of “Auld Robin Gray,” produced, according to Guest’s History of the Stage, at the Haymarket, July 29, 1794. This song is a neat résumé of the ballad, with a satisfactory catastrophe.[84] See an appendix.

A Gaelic copy, taken down by Rev. Alexander Stewart, of Ballachulish, from the recitation of an old man in his parish whose father had been in the way of singing it sixty years before, is plainly based upon =A=. The goodman, coming home unexpectedly, finds a boat on the beach, a horse at the door, etc. These and other things are explained by his wife as gifts from her mother. Far has he wandered, but never saw a saddle on a cow, etc. Alexander Stewart, ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe, 1885, p. 76 ff.

A ballad known and sung throughout Flemish Belgium, ‘Mijn man komt thuis,’ is formed upon the pattern of =A=, and must have been derived from =A=, unless the two have a common source. Two copies are given in Volkskunde (Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche Folklore), II, 49-58, by the editors, Messrs A. Gittée and Pol de Mont, a third by Pol de Mont, V, 20. A man comes home late, and sees in his bedroom a strange hat, overcoat, and other articles of clothing, and asks whose they are. His wife answers that they are a water-pot, a straw mattress, etc., which her mother has sent her. Travel the world round, he has never seen a water-pot with a band about it, a straw mattress with two sleeves, etc. In the last adventure of the first copy, the husband finds a man in the room, and his wife flatly answers, it is a lover my mother has sent me. The second copy ends a little better, but not well. The man is explained to be a foster-child sent by his wife’s mother, and so in the third. The husband has travelled the world round, but a foster-child with whiskers has he never seen. The wife packs out of the house. He has travelled the world round, but a wife like his he wishes never to see again.

Friedrich Wilhelm Meyer, in 1789, turned =B= into German in very happy style, furnishing a _dénoûment_ in which the man gives his wife a beating and explains his cuffs as caresses which her mother has sent her. Meyer’s ballad was printed in 1790, in the Göttingen Musenalmanach, p. 61 ff., and the same year in Lieder für fröhliche Gesellschaften, p. 37 (Hamburg). It had great and immediate success, was circulated as a broadside, and was taken up by the people, in whose mouth it underwent the usual treatment of ballads traditionally propagated.[85] From Germany it spread into Scandinavia and Hungary, and perhaps elsewhere. German varieties are: ‘Des Mannes Heimkehr,’ Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 225, No 195; ‘Wind über Wind,’ Simrock, p. 375, No 241; ‘Des Ehemannes Heimkehr,’ Ditfurth, Fränkische Volkslieder, II^r Theil, p. 61, No 61; Firmenich, Germaniens Völkerstimmen, III, 66; ‘Der Bauer u. sein Weib,’ Erlach, IV, 90; ‘Der betrogene Ehemann,’ Pröhle, p. 143; Walter, p. 97; ‘O Wind, O Wind, O Wind!’ Zurmühlen (Dülkener Fiedler), p. 101. (The last four lack the beating.)

The only Scandinavian copy that I have seen is the Swedish ‘Husarerna,’ in Bergström och Nordlander, Sagor, Sägner och Visor, 1885, p. 93. For indication of others, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish (including a broadside as early as 1799), see, particularly, Olrik, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 211 f., and note ***; also, Dybeck’s Runa, 1^a Samlingen, 1865, I, 89 (where the beginnings of two stanzas are cited); Afzelius, ed. 1880, II, 285.

Magyar (Szekler), Kríza, Vadrózsák, p. 242, No 483; Aigner, p. 149.

=French.= A similar ballad is common in France, especially in the south.

Poésies pop. de la France, MSS: II, fol. 54, ‘Marion;’ III, 60 (printed in Revue des Traditions pop., II, 66), 62, 64, Puy-de-Dôme; 68, Auvergne; 69, ‘Zjean et Mariou,’ Bourbonnais; 71, Pays de Caux; 72, ‘Le jaloux,’ environs de Toulouse; 74, Gascogne (Rolland, II, 211); 75, Languedoc; 76, ‘Lo surprero,’ Limousin (Rolland, II, 212); 78, ‘Le mari de Marion,’ Normandie; 80, 66, ‘Le mari jaloux,’ Bouches-du-Rhône; 82, ‘Marion,’ Provence; 83, Loiret; 84, ‘La rusade,’ Limousin;’ 87, ‘Lou jolous’ (Rolland, II, 213, Revue des Trad. pop., I, 71), Limoges; VI, 381 vo, ‘Jeannetoun’ (Rolland, II, 214), Quercy. ‘Lou jalous,’ Arbaud, Chants pop. de la Provence, II, 152. ‘Lou galant,’ Atger, Revue des Langues romanes, VI, 261, and Poésies pop. en Langue d’oc, p. 53. ‘Las finessos de la Marioun,’ Moncaut, Littérature pop. de la Gascogne, p. 316 = Bladé, Poésies pop. de la Gascogne, II, 116 f. Revue des Traditions pop., II, 64, Cévennes. Daudet, Numa Roumestan, ed. 1881, p. 178, Provence = Revue des Tr. pop., II, 65, Ouest de la France. ‘Lou Tsalous, Daymard, Bulletin de la Société des Études,’ etc., du Lot, IV, 100, 1878, Vieux chants pop. rec. en Quercy, 1889, p. 92. ‘Las rebirados de Marioun,’ Soleville, Chants pop. du Bas-Quercy, p. 22; partly, in Pouvillon, Nouvelles réalistes, ed. 1878, p. 151. Victor Smith in Romania, IX, 566-68, three copies, Forez, Velay, bas-limousin. ‘Le mari soupçonneux,’ Tarbé, Romancero de Champagne, II, 98, Ardennes. ‘La chanson de la bergère,’ Puymaigre, Chants pop. rec. dans le Pays messin, 1865, p. 215, 1881, I, 263. ‘Les répliques de Marioun,’ Almanach des Traditions pop., 1882, p. 86, in Rolland, II, 208, No 162 a, environs de Lorient. ‘Las respounsos de Marioun,’ Laroche, Folklore du Lauraguais, p. 211. “Le Chroniqueur du Périgord et du Limousin, Périgueux, 1853, p. 109.” “Le Pélerinage de Mireille, p. 173.” (The last two I have not seen.)

For the most part, the colloquy runs in this wise: ‘Where were you last evening, Marion?’ ‘In the garden, picking a salad.’ ‘Who was it you were talking with?’ ‘A gossip of mine’ (camarade, voisine, cousine, sœur, servante, etc.). ‘Do women wear a sword?’ ‘It was no sword, but a distaff.’ ‘Do women wear breeches?’ ‘She was kilted up.’ ‘Have women a moustache?’ ‘She had been eating mulberries.’ ‘It is too late for mulberries.’ ‘They were last year’s’ (an autumn branch, etc.). ‘I will cut off your head.’ ‘And what will you do with the rest?’ ‘Throw it out of the window.’ ‘Les corbeaux (cochons, chiens, chats, mouches, couteliers, capucins, anges, etc.) en feront fête.’ In a few instances, to end the more smartly, the husband is made to promise (or the wife to ask) forgiveness for this time, and the wife adds, aside, ‘and many more.’ ‘You will play off no more tricks on me.’ ‘Forgive this, and I will, a good many.’ (Rolland.) ‘Pardon this fault; to-morrow I will commit another.’ (Victor Smith.) ‘Get up: I pardon you.’ ‘What dolts men are! What can’t we make them believe!’ (MSS, III, 78.) Etc.

In some half dozen copies, Marion has been at the spring (not in the garden), and has stayed suspiciously long, which she accounts for by her having found the water muddied. After this, and in a few copies which have no garden or spring, the matter is much the same as in the English ballad; there is a sword on the mantel-shelf (a gun on the table), boots (cane) behind the door, a man where nae man should be. Nearest of all to the English is one of Victor Smith’s ballads, Romania, IX, 566: ‘Whose horse was that in the stable last night?’ ‘No horse, but our black cow.’ ‘A cow with a saddle?’ ‘No saddle; it was the shadow of her horns.’ ‘Whose breeches, boots, sabre, hat?’ ‘qui était couché à ma place?’ The mulberries are nearly a constant feature in the French ballad.

There is an approach to a serious termination in MSS, III, 87: ‘Say your prayers, without so much noise.’ ‘At least put my bones in the ground.’ And in Puymaigre: ‘I will take you to Flanders and have you hanged.’ ‘Leave the gallows for the great robbers of France.’ The copies, MSS, III, 62, 71, end, prosaically,’Jamais je n’ai vu ni fille ni femme qui sent la putain comme toi;’ ‘Femme qui m’a trompé la mort a méritée!’

The lace-makers of Vorey are wont to recite or sing this ballad winter evenings as a little drama: V. Smith, Romania, IX, 568, note. So the young girls in Lorraine during carnival, Puymaigre, I, 263; and the young fellows in Provence, Arbaud, II, 155 f.

=Italian.= ‘Le repliche di Marion,’ Nigra, Canti popolari del Piemonte, p. 422, No 85, A, B, C. The Piedmontese copies follow the French closely, beginning with picking salad in the garden, and ending with ‘your peace is made,’ as in Poésies p. de la France, MSS, III, 64. ‘Il marito geloso’ (incomplete), Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, p. 93, No 70. ‘La sposa colta in fallo,’ Bernoni, Canti p. veneziani, puntata ix, No 8, p. 12. (Mariù goes on her knees and asks pardon, and is told to get up, for pardoned she is.) ‘Bombarion,’ Ferrari, first in Giornale di Filologia romanza, III, No 7, p. 74, 1880, and then in Archivio per le Tradizioni popolari, Canti p. in San Pietro Capofiume, VII, 398, 1888 (peace is made). All the Italian versions keep near to the French, having nothing original but an unimportant insertion, ‘Chi ti farà la minestra?’ etc., just before the end.[86]

=Catalan.= ‘La Trapassera,’ Briz y Saltó, Cants pop. catalans, II, 69. Father hears daughter talking with lover in the garden; the usual questions and replies; improved, or corrupted, at the end.

For serious ballads, Scandinavian, Spanish, etc., exhibiting similar questions and evasions, see ‘Clerk Saunders,’ No 69 =F=, and the remarks at II, 157 f., 512 a, III, 509 a, IV, 468 a. The romance ‘De Blanca-Niña’ occurs in the Cancionero de Romances of 1550. The oldest Scandinavian ballad of the class is one of Syv’s, printed in 1695.

* * * * *

Herd, 1776, is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 96, Hausschatz, p. 230; by Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen Liederdichtung, I, 32; by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 82.

A

Herd’s MSS, I, 140.

1
Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And then he saw a saddle-horse,
Where nae horse should be.

2
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came this horse here,
Without the leave o me?’

_Recitative._ ‘A horse?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a horse,’ quo he.

3
‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
’Tis naething but a broad sow,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘A broad sow?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a sow,’ quo shee.

4
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But a sadle on a sow’s back
I never saw nane.’

5
Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he;
He spy’d a pair of jack-boots,
Where nae boots should be.

6
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came these boots here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘Boots?’ quo she.
‘Ay, boots,’ quo he.

7
‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
And ill mat ye see!
It’s but a pair of water-stoups,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Water-stoups?’ quo he.
‘Ay, water-stoups,’ quo she.

8
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But siller spurs on water-stoups
I saw never nane.’

9
Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And he saw a sword,
Whare a sword should na be.

10
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came this sword here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A sword?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a sword,’ quo he.

11
‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
It’s but a porridge-spurtle,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘A spurtle?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a spurtle,’ quo she.

12
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But siller-handed spurtles
I saw never nane.’

13
Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he;
There he spy’d a powderd wig,
Where nae wig shoud be.

14
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came this wig here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A wig?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a wig,’ quo he.

15
‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
And ill mat you see!
’Tis naething but a clocken-hen,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Clocken hen?’ quo he.
‘Ay, clocken hen,’ quo she.

16
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But powder on a clocken-hen
I saw never nane.’

17
Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And there he saw a muckle coat,
Where nae coat shoud be.

18
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came this coat here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A coat?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a coat,’ quo he.

19
‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
It’s but a pair o blankets,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Blankets?’ quo he.
‘Ay, blankets,’ quo she.

20
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But buttons upon blankets
I saw never nane.’

21
Ben went our goodman,
And ben went he,
And there he spy’d a sturdy man,
Where nae man shoud be.

22
‘What’s this now, goodwife?
What’s this I see?
How came this man here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A man?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a man,’ quo he.

23
‘Poor blind body,
And blinder mat ye be!
It’s a new milking-maid,
My mither sent to me.’

‘A maid?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a maid,’ quo she.

24
‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But lang-bearded maidens
I saw never nane.’

B

A broadside: Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office in Bow Church-Yard, London.

1
O I went into the stable,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three horses stand,
by one, by two, and by three.

2
O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three horses here,
without the leave of me?’

3
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
These are three milking-cows,
my mother sent to me.’

4
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-cows with bridles and saddles on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

5
O I went into the kitchen,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three swords hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

6
O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three swords do here,
without the leave of me?’

7
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
They are three roasting-spits,
my mother sent to me.’

8
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Roasting spits with scabbards on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

9
O I went into the parlour,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three cloaks hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

10
O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three cloaks do here,
without the leave of me?’

11
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
These are three mantuas,
my mother sent to me.’

12
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Mantuas with capes on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

13
I went into the pantry,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three pair of boots hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

14
O I called to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three pair of boots do here,
without the leave of me?’

15
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
These are three pudding-bags,
my mother sent to me.’

16
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Pudding-bags with spurs on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

17
I went into my closet,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three pair of breeches lie,
by one, by two, and by three.

18
O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three pair of breeches do here,
without the leave of me?’

19
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
These are three petticoats,
my mother sent to me.’

20
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Petticoats with waistbands on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

21
I went into the dairy,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three hats hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

22
I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘Pray what do these three hats do here,
without the leave of me?’

23
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can’t you very well see?
They are three skimming-dishes,
my mother sent to me.’

24
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Skimming-dishes with hat-bands on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

25
I went into the chamber,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three men in bed lie,
by one, by two, and by three.

26
I called to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three men in bed,
without the leave of me?’

27
‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
don’t you very well see?
They are three milking-maids,
my mother sent to me.’

28
‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-maids with beards on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

* * * * *

=A.=

1^1. _Or_, Our goodman came hame at een.

2^1. _Or_, How came this horse here?

2^2. _Or_, How can this be?

3^1. _Or_, Ye ald blind dottled carl.

3^2. _Or_, Blind mat ye be!

3^3. _Or_, a bonny milk-cow.

3^4. My minny _is an alternative and necessary reading for_ The miller.

4^1. _Or_, travelld.

4^2. _Or_, And meikle hae I seen.

4^4. [_Or_,] Saw I.

5^1. _Or_, Our goodman came hame.

7^4. The cooper sent.

_9-12. At the end, with a direction as to place: not completely written out._

9^1. Hame, etc.

10^3. O how.

12^{1,2}. Weel far hae I travelled,
And muckle hae I seen.

12^4. Saw I never nane.

_The regular readings have been inserted or substituted. In printing, Herd gave sometimes the alternative readings, sometimes not._

=B.=

_Printed in seven staves, or stanzas, of eight long lines._

1^1, 2^1. Oh.

15^3, 19^3. the three.

Notes and Queries, First Series, VI, 118 (“Shropshire Ballad”).

I went into the stable,
To see what I could see;
I saw three gentlemen’s horses,
By one, by two, by three.

I called to my loving wife,
‘Coming, sir!’ says she:
‘What meaneth these three horses here,
Without the leave of me?’

‘You old fool! you blind fool!
Can’t you, won’t you, see?
They are three milking-cows,
That my mother sent to me.’

‘Odds bobs, here’s fun! Milking-cows with saddles on!
The likes I never see!
I cannot go a mile from home
But a cuckold I must be.’

I went into the parlour,
To see what I could see;
I saw there three gentlemen,
By one, by two, by three.

I called to my loving wife,
‘Coming, sir!’ said she:
‘What bringeth these three gentlemen here,
Without the leave of me?’

‘You old fool! you blind fool!
Can’t you, won’t you, see?
They are three milking-maids,
That my mother sent to me.’

‘Odds bobs, here’s fun! Milking-maids with breeches on!
The likes I never see!
I cannot go a mile from home
But a cuckold I must be.’

The unhappy husband next wanders into the pantry, and discovers ‘three pairs of hunting-boots,’ which his spouse declares are

’ ... milking-churns,
Which my mother sent to me.’

‘Odds bobs, here’s fun! Milking-churns with spurs on!
The likes I never see!
I cannot go a mile from home
But a cuckold I must be.’

The gentlemen’s coats, discovered in the kitchen, are next disposed
of, but here my memory fails me.