+ Essay, attempt.

Thus theywent all along unto the miller's Where they were seething of puddings. [

souse:

The miller first enter'd in, after him went &

$123. The King and Miller of Mansfield. Ir has been a favourite subject with our English ballad-makers to represent our kings conversing either by accident or design with the meanest of Never came bee in soe smoakye a house their subjects. Of the former kind, besides this song of the King and the Miller, we have K. Now, quoth he, let me see here what you a Henry and the Soldier; K. James I. and the Quoth our king, Look your fill, and do not Tinker; K. William III. and the Forester, &c. I like well thy countenance, thou s Of the latter sort are K. Alfred and the Shep-j herd; K. Edward IV. and the Tanner; K. Henry VIII. and the Cobler, &c.--This is a piece of great antiquity, being written before the time of Edward IV.; 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.

Part the First.

HENRY, ourroyall 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

For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summers day rode the king pleasantly,
With all his princes and nobles eche one.

honest face;

(sh With my son Richard this night Quoth his wife, By my troth, it is a band youth,

Yet its best, husband, to deal warilye Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, Shew me thy passport, and all shal be w Then our king presentlye, making lon: tesye

I

With his hatt in his hand, thus he
have no passport, nor never was serv
But a poor courtyer rode out of my
And for your kindness here offered to
I will requite you in everye degree.
Then to the miller his wife whisper'd se
Saying, It seemeth this youth's of gra
Both by his apparel, and che by his r
To turne him out, certainlye, were a

Chasing the hart and hind, and the buckegal-Yea, quoth hee, you may see, he haàn

lantlye,

Till the darke 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.
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 mean 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 on me so briefe ?

grace,

When he doth speake to his betters it. Well, quo' the millers wife, young m welcome nere;

And, though I say it, well lodged a Fresh straw will I have laid on th brave, [get

And good brown hempen sheets Aye, quoth the good man, and whe done,

Thou shalt lye with no worse than

Nay, first, quoth Richard, good-fellow:

true,

Hast thou noe creepers within thys

Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to flat-Or art thou not troubled with the seab

ter thee;

[thiefe; I guess thee to be but some gentleman Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne, Lest I presently cracke thy knaves crowne. Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king,

saying thus;

I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke. [purse;
Thou hast not, quoth the miller, one groat in thy
All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe;
I 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,

[night. I sweare by my toll-dish I'll lodge thee all Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was I ever. Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou mayst be a sprite.

Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake;
With none but honest men hands will I take.

I

I pray, quoth the king, what cream

And to all enckolds, wherever they pledge thee, quoth our king, and th

heartilye

For my good welcome in every d And here, in like manner, I drinke to Do then, quoth Richard, and qu

come.

Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth light-For, in this merriment, 's my desire [squire.
foote,
To talke with the jolly knight, and the young
When as the noble lords saw the kinges plea-

And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste. faire ven'son pastye brought she

sentlye.

out pre-
[waste:

santness,

[hearts;

They were right joyfull and glad in their make no A pursuivante there was sent straight on the

Fate, quoth the miller, but, sir,
ere's dainty lightfoote! In faith, said the king,
never before eate so dainty a thing.
wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is,
For we do eat of it everye day.
what place, sayd our king, may be bought

like to this?

We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay:
om merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;
w and then we make bold with our king's
deer.

en I thinke, sayd our king, that it is venison,
Eche foole, quoth Richard, full well may
know that:

ver are we without two or three in the roof, Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:

pr'ythee, say nothing wherever thou goe; would not for two pence the king should it knowe.

ibt not, then sayd the king, my promised

secresye;

he king shall never know more on 't for me.
ip of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then,
nd to their beds they past present lie.
nobles, next morning, went all up and
down,

to seeke out the king in everye towne.
ast, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd
him out,

she was mounting upon his faire steede;
whom they came presently, falling down
on their knee;

hich made the millers heart wofully bleede: ting and quaking, before him he stood, aking he should have been hang'd by the rood.

king perceiving him fearfully trembling,
rew forth his sword, but nothing he sed:
miller downe did fall, crying before them
all,
[head:
oubting the king would have cut off his
he his kind courtesy for to requite,

e him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.
Part the Second.

EN as our royall king was come home from
Nottingham,

ad with his nobles at Westminster lay;
unting the sports and pastimes they had

taken,

this late progress along on the way; hem all, great and small, he did protest, Miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best. now, my lords, quoth the king, I'm determined,

gainst St. George's next sumptuous feast,

this old miller our new confirmed knight, ith his son Richard, shall here be my guest:

business,

[parts.

The which had often times been in those
When he came to the place where they did dwell
His message orderlye then 'gan he tell.
God save your worshippe, then said the mes-

senger,

And to your sonne Richard good fortune and
And grant your ladve her owne hearts desire;
happiness;
[squire!

That sweet, gentle, and gallant young
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say,
You must come to the court on St. Georges day.
Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place.
I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest:
What should we doe there? faith, I am halfe
afraid.

I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the
least.

Nay, quoth the messenger, you doe mistake;
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake.
Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messenger,

Thou hast contented my worshippe full well. Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness

For these happy tydings which thou dost tell.
Let me see, heare thou mee; tell to our king,
We'll wait on his mastershipp in everye thing.
The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye,

And, making many leggs, tooke their reward;
And his leave taking with great humilitye,
Shewing unto his grace, merry and free,
To the kings court againe he repair'd;
The knightes most liberall gift and bountie.
When he was gone away, thus gan the miller

Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend
Here come expences and charges indeed!
all we have;

Of horses and serving-men we must have store,
For of new garments we have great need:
With bridles and saddles, and twenty things

With the court dames and filing, like to the. And onto a quarter let's bere have sor
The miller's wife did she orderly stand,
A mill-maids courtesse at comme så ned;
And dowse all the folkes were set to the
board.

nurderer, yonder, was hung in chaines;
* sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines:"

it off a sinew; I clipp'd his haire;

"A proper new Ballad, intituled, The Fairies "Farewell, or God-a-mercy Will, to be sung or "whistled to the tune of The Meadow Brow,

"

by the learned; by the unlearned, to the tune " of Fortune."

FAREWELL, rewards and Fairies!
Good housewives now may say;
For now foule sluts in dairies

Doe fare as well as they;

And though they sweepe their hearths no less
Than mayds were wont to doe,
Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds six-pence in her shoe?
Lament, lament, old Abbies,
The fairies lost command!
They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land:
And all your children stoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,

Who live as changelings ever since,
For love of your demaines.

ought off his ragges, that danc'd i' the ayre. At morning and at evening both

8 Witch.

:scrich-owles egges, and the feathers blacke, : bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backe,

we been getting; and made of his skin urset, to keep sir Cranion in.

9 Witch.

I ha' been plucking (plants among) alock, henbane, adders-tongue, ht-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane; itwise by the dogges was like to be tane.

10 Witch.

om the jaws of a gardiner's bitch

You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleepe and sloth
These prettie ladies had.
When Tom came home from labour,
Or Ciss to milking rose,
Then merrily went their tabour,
And nimbly went their toes.
Witness those rings and roundelayes
Of theirs, which yet remaine;
Were footed in queen Maries dayes
On many a grassy playne.
But since of late Elizabeth

And later James came in ;
They never danc'd on any heath,
A's when the time had been.

snatch these boues, and then leap'd the By which wee note the fairies

ditch:

went I back to the house againe,

'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine.
11 Witch.

ent to the toade, breeds under the wall,
armed him out, and he came at my call;
ratch'd out the eyes of the owle before;
re the batts wings: what would you have
more?

Dame.

: I have brought, to helpe your vows, ned poppie, cypresse boughes, fig-tree wild, that grows on tombes, I juice that from the larch-tree comes, • Basiliskes blond, and the vipers skin; Inow our onics let's begin.

$125. The Fairies Farewel.

humorous old song fell from the hand of the itty Dr. CoRBET, afterwards bishop of Nor#ìch, &c. In his Poëtica Stromata it is called

Were of the old profession;
Their songs were Ave Maries,

Their dances were procession.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or farther for religion fled,

Or else they take their ease.
A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whoso kept not secretly

Their mirth, was punish'd sure:
It was a just and christian deed

To pinch such blacke and blue:
O how the common-welth doth need
Such justices as you!

Now they have left our quarters;
A Register they have,
Who can preserve their charters;
A man both wise and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name
Are kept in store; con twenty thanks
To William for the same.