The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 10

O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet; But if you will give me but three weekes s.p.a.ce, Ile do my endeavour to answer your grace.

Now three weeks s.p.a.ce to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee.

Away rode the abbot, all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.

Then home rode the abbot, of comfort so cold, And he mett his shepheard agoing to fold: How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home, What newes do you bring us from good King John?

Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give: That I have but three days more to live; For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie.

The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head.

Among all his liege-men so n.o.ble of birth.

To within one penny of what he is worth.

The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke.

Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt?

Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel.

Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lords.h.i.+p, as ever may bee: And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us in fair London towne.

Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope.

Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.

And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so n.o.ble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth.

For thirty pence our Saivour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told: And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee.

The King he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, I did not think I had been worth so littel!

--Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about.

You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe; And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soone!

--Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke.

Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry: You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury; But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.

The king he laughed, and swore by the ma.s.se, Ile make thee lord abbot this day in his place!

Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write, ne reade.

Four n.o.bles a week, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee: And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY'S POLICY [A VERY FAVORITE ANCIENT BALLAD.]

PERCY RELIQUES

There was a knight was drunk with wine, A riding along the way, sir; And there he met with a lady fine, Among the c.o.c.ks of hay, sir.

Shall you and I, O lady faire, Among the gra.s.s lye down-a: And I will have a special care, Of rumpling of your gowne-a.

Upon the gra.s.s there is a dewe, Will spoil my damask gowne, sir: My gowne and kirtle they are newe, And cost me many a crowne, sir.

I have a cloak of scarlet red, Upon the ground I'll throwe it; Then, lady faire, come lay thy head; We'll play, and none shall knowe it.

O yonder stands my steed so free Among the c.o.c.ks of hay, sir, And if the pinner should chance to see, He'll take my steed away, sir.

Upon my finger I have a ring, Its made of finest gold-a, And, lady, it thy steed shall bring Out of the pinner's fold-a.

O go with me to my father's hall; Fair chambers there are three, sir: And you shall have the best of all, And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir.

He mounted himself on his steed so tall, And her on her dapple gray, sir: And there they rode to her father's hall, Fast p.r.i.c.king along the way, sir.

To her father's hall they arrived strait; 'Twas moated round about-a; She slipped herself within the gate, And lockt the knight without-a.

Here is a silver penny to spend, And take it for your pain, sir; And two of my father's men I'll send To wait on you back again, sir.

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 wip'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 c.o.c.k that Would make a capon of you, sir.

A flower there is, that s.h.i.+neth 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.

He from his saddle down did light, In all his riche attyer; And cryed, As I'm a n.o.ble 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, Past 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, 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 conies of fooling: That is the fittest place for you; Your courage wanted cooling.

Ere many days, in her fathers park, Just at the close of eve-a, Again she met with her angry sparke; 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.