Staye here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,

Thus wandered these poor innocents,
Till deathe did end their grief,

In one anothers armes they dyed,
As wanting due relief:

No burial 'this' pretty 'pair'
Of any man receives,

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Two of his sonnes did dye;

And to conclude, himselfe was brought
To want and miserye:

140

He pawn'd and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven yeares came about.

And now at length this wicked act
Did by this meanes come out:

The fellowe, that did take in hand
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judg'd to dye,

Such was God's blessed will:

Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been display'd:
Their uncle having dyed in gaol,
Where he for debt was layd.

You that executors be made,
And overseers eke
Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek;
Take you example by this thing,
And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like miserye
Your wicked minds requite.

Percy. III.

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150

155

XX.

A Lover of Late.

PRINTED, with a few slight corrections, from the Editor's folio MS.

A LOVER of late was I,

For Cupid would have it soe,
The boy that hath never an eye,
As every man doth know:

I sighed and sobbed, and cryed, alas!

For her that laught, and called me ass.

Then knew not I what to doe,

When I saw itt was in vaine

A lady soe coy to wooe,

5

Who gave me the asse soe plaine:

10

Yet would I her asse freelye bee,

Soe shee would helpe, and beare with mee.

XXI.

The King and Willer of Wansfield.

Ir has been a favourite subject with our English balladmakers, to represent our kings conversing, either by accident or design, with the meanest of their subjects. Of the former kind, besides the song of the King and the Miller, we have King Henry and the Soldier; King James I. and the Tinker; King William III. and the Forester, &c. Of the latter sort are King Alfred and the Shepherd; King Edwand IV. and the Tanner; King Henry VIII. and the Cobler, &c. A few of the best of these are admitted into this collection. Both the author of the following ballad, and others who have written on the same plan, seem to have copied a very ancient poem, entitled John the Reeve, which is built on an adventure of the same kind, that happened between King Edward Longshanks and one of his reeves or bailiffs. This is a piece of great antiquity, being written before the time of Edward the Fourth, and for its genuine humour, diverting incidents, and faithful picture of rustic manners, is infinitely superior to all that have been since written in imitation of it. The Editor has a copy in his ancient folio MS., but its length rendered it improper for this volume, it consisting of more than 900 lines. It contains also some corruptions, and the Editor chooses to defer its publication, in hopes that some time or other he shall be able to remove them.

The following is printed, with corrections, from the Editor's folio MS. collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, entitled, "A pleasant ballad of King Henry II. and the Miller of Mansfield," &c.

PART THE FIRST.

HENRY, our royall king, would ride a hunting
To the greene forest so pleasant and faire;
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping:
Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire:

Hawke and hound were unbound, all things prepar'd 5
For the game, in the same, with good regard.

All a long summers day rode the king pleasantlye,
With all his princes and nobles eche one;

Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the dark evening forc'd all to turne home.
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.

10

Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and downe,
With a rude miller he mett at the last:
Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham;
Sir, quoth the miller, I meane not to jest,
Yet I thinke, what I thinke, sooth for to say,
You doe not lightlye ride out of your way.

Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king merrily,
Passing thy judgment upon me so briefe?

Good faith, sayd the miller, I meane not to flatter thee;
I guess thee to bee but some gentleman thiefe;
Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne,
Lest that I presentlye crack thy knaves crowne.

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20

Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying thus; 25 I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke.

Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy purse;

All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe.

1I have gold to discharge all that I call;

If it be forty pence, I will pay all.

If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller,
I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night.
Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was I ever.
Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite
Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake;
With none but honest men hands will I take.

1 The king says this.

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