4^2. townes 3._The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 2 (of 5)

5^2. 2 or.

9^2. eyes.

10^2. 2 or 3.

11^4. 100^{li}_{:}.

15^4. yo^r are.

16^3. lenghen.

18^3. lert_er_.

18^4. stue thy.

19^{2, 3}. _The MS. is pared away at the bottom of p.

513, and the writing has perished and part of the paper

is broken away at the top of p. 514. Furnivall._

20^1. siluer & plate: _see_ 22^1.

And _for_ &, _throughout_.

109

TOM POTTS

#A.# 'Thomas of Potte,' Percy MS., p. 409; Hales and

Furnivall, III, 135.

#B.# 'The Lovers Quarrel, or, Cupid's Triumph,' etc.

#a.# London, printed for F. Coles, and others, 1677,

#b.# Pepys Merriments, I, 189; Ritson, Pieces of Ancient

Popular Poetry, p. 115, 1791.

#C.# 'The Two Constant Lovers in Scotland,' etc.,

broadside of 1657; Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 248.

* * * * *

All the copies here printed are of the seventeenth century, and the

ballad need not be put much beyond that date. Modernized editions,

differing much, were issued in the century following, perhaps earlier,

some of which have a Second Part, narrating the happy married life of

Tom Potts, Lord Arundel, and Fair Rosamund. See Halliwell's Descriptive

Notices of Popular English Histories, p. 17, No 15, Percy Society, vol.

xxiii, and the notes to #B#.

Unequal matches are common enough in ballads and romances, and very

naturally, since they are an easy expedient for exciting interest,

at least with those who belong to the humbler party. We have other

ballad-examples of disparagement on the female side in 'The Bonny

Foot-Boy' and 'Ritchie Storie.' No offence seems to be given when King

Cophetua weds the Beggar-Maid, but when the Lady of the Strachy marries

the Yeoman of the Wardrobe good taste is shocked. Such events would be

celebrated only by fellows of the yeoman or of the foot-boy, and surely

in the present case the minstrel was not much above the estate of the

serving-man. Lord Jockey's reckless liberality throughout, and Lord

Phenix's in the end, is a mark of the serving-man's ideal nobleman.

Tom Potts stanches his blood with a charm in #A# 75^4, #B# 82^4, just

as the sons of Autolycus do that of Ulysses in Odyssey XIX, 457 f. His

rejecting of his master's thirty fine horses in favor of the old white

cut-tail is a ludicrous repetition of Hugh Spencer's preference of the

hack he had brought over sea, and Walter of Aquitaine's predilection

for his worn-out charger. See, further on, 'Hugh Spencer's Feats in

France.'

There is a Lord Phenix in a sufficiently absurd ballad in Motherwell's

MS., 'Jamie o Lee,' p. 654; an English nobleman who steals the Queen of

Scotland's jewels and lays the blame on Jamie o Lee, a page of fifteen

years, being himself, for rhyme's sake, thretty three. The page worsts

his accuser in a duel and makes him confess.

Mr Macmath notes for me that Swift, in The Tale of a Tub (written about

1696), having associated Dryden's Hind and Panther with Tom Thumb,

Whittington and his Cat, and other "prime productions of our society,"

adduces Tommy Potts as "another piece, supposed by the same hand, by

way of supplement to the former:" Scott's edition, XI, 72.

The message to Strawberry Castle occurs also in No 65, #D#, #E#, #F#,

and No 87 #C#.

* * * * *

#B# is translated by Bothe, p. 315.

Percy MS., p. 409; Hales and Furnivall, III, 135.

All you lords of Scottland ffaire,

And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee,

There is a ladye amongst them all,

Of her report you shall heare of me.

Of her bewtye shee is soe bright,

And of her colour soe bright of blee;

Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell,

His heyre apparrant ffor to bee.

'I'le see _tha_t bryde,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes,

'_Tha_t is a ladye of hye degree,

And iff I like her countenance well,

The heyre of all my land shee'st bee.'

To _tha_t ladye ffayre Lord Phenix came,

And to _tha_t like-some dame said hee,

Now God thee saue, my ladye ffaire,

The heyre of all my land tho'st bee.

'Leaue of yo_u_r suite,' the ladye sayd;

'You are a lord of honor ffree;

You may gett ladyes enowe att home,

And I haue a loue in mine owne countrye.

'I haue a louer true of mine owne,

A servinge-man of a small degree;

Thomas a Pott, itt is his name,

He is the ffirst loue _tha_t euer I had, and the last _tha_t hee shalbee.'

'Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name,

I wott I ken him soe readilye;

I can spend forty pounds by weeke,

And hee cannott spend pounds three.'

'God giue you good of yo_u_r gold,' said the ladye,

'And alsoe, _si_r, of yo_u_r ffee!

Hee was the ffirst loue _tha_t euer I had,

And the last, s_i_r, shall hee bee.'

With _tha_t Lord Phenix was sore amoued;

Vnto her ffather then went hee;

Hee told her ffather how itt was proued,

How _tha_t his daughter's mind was sett.

'Thou art my daughter,' the Erle of Arrndell said,

'The heyre of all my land to bee;

Thou 'st be bryde to the Lord Phenix,

Daughter, giue thou'le be heyre to mee.'

For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose,

Her foolish wooing lay all aside;

The day is appoynted, and ffreinds are agreede;

Shee is fforcte to be the Lo_rd_ Phenix bryde.

W_i_th _tha_t the lady began to muse--

A greeued woman, God wott, was shee--

How shee might Lo_rd_ Phenix beguile,

And scape vnmarryed ffrom him _tha_t day.

Shee called to her her litle ffoote-page,

To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye;

Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle ffoote-page,

For indeed I dare trust none but thee.

To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe,

To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee,

And giue him here this letter ffaire,

And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me.

Looke thou marke his contenance well,

And his colour tell to mee;

And hye thee ffast, and come againe,

And forty shillings I will giue thee.

For if he blush in his fface,

Then in his hart hee'se sorry bee;

Then lett my ffather say what hee will,

For false to Potts I'le neuer bee.

And giue hee smile then with his mouth,

Then in his heart hee'le merry be;

Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can,

For small of his companye my p_ar_t shalbe.

Then one while _tha_t the boy hee went,

Another while, God wott, rann hee,

And when hee came to Strawberry Castle,

There Thomas Potts hee see.

Then he gaue him this letter ffaire,

And when he began then for to reade,

They boy had told him by word of mouth

His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde.

With _tha_t, Thomas a Pott began to blushe,

The teares trickeled in his eye:

'Indeed this letter I cannot reede,

Nor neuer a word to see or spye.

'I pray thee, boy, to me thou'le be trew,

And heer 's fiue marke I will giue thee;

And all these words thou must peruse,

And tell thy lady this ffrom mee.

'Tell her by ffaith and troth shee is mine owne,

By some p_ar_t of p_ro_mise, and soe itt's be found;

Lo_rd_ Phenix shall neu_er_ marry her, by night nor day,

W_i_thout he can winn her w_i_th his hand.

'On Gilford Greene I will her meete,

And bidd _tha_t ladye ffor mee pray;

For there I'le loose my liffe soe sweete,

Or else the wedding I will stay.'

Then backe againe the boy he went,

As ffast againe as he cold hye;

The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way:

'Why hast thou stayd soe long?' saies shee.

'Boy,' said the ladye, 'thou art but younge;

To please my mind thou 'le mocke and scorne;

I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth,

Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.'

'Marry, by this booke,' the boy can say,

'As Christ himselfe be true to mee,

Tho_mas_ Pott cold not his letter reade

For teares trickling in his eye.'

'If this be true,' the ladye sayd,

'Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee,

Forty shillings I did thee p_ro_mise,

But heere's ten pounds I'le giue itt thee.

'All my maids,' the lady sayd,

'_Tha_t this day doe waite on mee,

Wee will ffall downe vpon our knees,

For Tho_mas_ Pott now pray will wee.

'If his ffortune be now ffor to winn--

Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye--

I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn,

Ffor they Lo_rd_ of Arrundale he shalbe.'

Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire,

In her prayer good where shee can bee;

And I'le tell you hou Tho_mas_ Pott

For ayd to his lo_rd_ and m_aster_ came hee.

And when hee came Lo_rd_ Iockye before,

He kneeled him low downe on his knee;

Saies, Thou art welcome, Tho_mas_ Pott,

Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye.

Has thou slaine any of thy ffellowes,

Or hast thou wrought me some villanye?

'Sir, none of my ffellowes I haue slaine,

Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye.

'But I haue a loue in Scottland ffaire,

I doubt I must lose her through pouertye;

If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth,

Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.'

When Lo_rd_ Iockye looked the letter vpon,

The tender words in itt cold bee,

'Tho_mas_ Pott, take thou no care,

Thou 'st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.

'Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke,

In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe,

And Harbye towne I will thee allowe

As longe as thou dost meane to wooe.

'Thou shalt haue fortye of thy ffellowes ffaire,

And forty horsse to goe with thee,

And forty speares of the best I haue,

And I my-selfe in thy companye.'

'I thanke you, m_aster_,' sayd Tho_mas_ Pott,

'Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;

I wold not ffor a thousand pounds

Take one man in my companye.'

'Why then, God be with thee, Tho_mas_ Pott!

Thou art well knowen and proued for a man;

Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode,

Nor neuer confound no gentlman.

'But looke thou take with him some truce,

Apoint a place of lybertye;

Lett him p_ro_vide as well as hee cann,

And as well p_ro_vided thou shalt bee.'

And when Tho_mas_ Pott came to Gilford Greene,

And walked there a litle beside,

Then was hee ware of the Lo_rd_ Phenix,

And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde.

Away by the bryde rode Tho_mas_ of Pott,

But noe word to her _tha_t he did say;

But when he came Lo_rd_ Phenix before,

He gaue him the right time of the day.

'O thou art welcome, Tho_mas_ a Potts,

Thou serving-man, welcome to mee!

How ffares they lo_rd_ and m_aster_ att home,

And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?'

'S_i_r, my lo_rd_ and my m_aster_ is in verry good health,

I wott I ken itt soe readylye;

I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde,

A word or towe to talke w_i_th mee.

'You are a nobleman,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Potts,

'Yee are a borne lo_rd_ in Scottland ffree;

You may gett ladyes enowe att home;

You shall neuer take my loue ffrom mee.'

'Away, away, thou Tho_mas_ a Potts!

Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side!

I wott there's not a serving-man this day,

I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.'

'If I be but a seruing-man,' sayd Tho_mas_,

'And you are a lord of honor ffree,

A speare or two I'le w_i_th you runn,

Before I'le loose her thus cowardlye.'

'On Gilford Greene,' Lo_rd_ Ph_enix_ saies, 'I'le thee meete;

Neither man nor boy shall come hither w_i_th mee;'

'And as I am a man,' said Tho_mas_ a Pott,

'I'le haue as ffew in my companye.'

W_i_th _that_ the wedding-day was stayd,

The bryde went vnmarryed home againe;

Then to her maydens ffast shee loughe,

And in her hart shee was ffull ffaine.

'But all my mayds,' they ladye sayd,

'_That_ this day doe waite on mee,

Wee will ffall downe againe vpon our knees,

For Tho_mas_ a Potts now pray will wee.

'If his ffortune be ffor to winn--

Wee'le pray to Christ in Trynitye--

I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn,

For the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale he shalbe.'

Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre,

In her prayers good where shee can bee;

I'le tell you the troth how Tho_mas_ a Potts

For aide to his lord againe came hee.

And when he came to Strawberry Castle,

To try ffor his ladye he had but one weeke;

Alacke, ffor sorrow hee cannott fforbeare,

For four dayes then he ffell sicke.

W_i_th _tha_t his lo_rd_ and m_aster_ to him came,

Sayes, I pray thee, Tho_mas_, tell mee w_i_thout all doubt,

Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye,

Or thou man gange the ladye w_i_thoute.

'Marry, m_aster_, yett _tha_t matter is vntryde;

W_i_thin two dayes tryed itt must bee;

He is a lo_rd_, and I am but a seruing-man,

I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.'

'Why, Tho_mas_ a Pott, take thou no care;

Thou'st neuer loose her through pouertye.

'Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere,

And _tha_t will raise thee many a pound;

Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye,

Thou shalt drop angells w_i_th him to the ground.

'And thou shalt haue forty of thy ffellowes ffaire,

And forty horsses to goe w_i_th thee,

And forty speres of the best I haue,

And I my-selfe in thy companye.'

'I thanke you, m_aster_,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Potts,

'But of one thinge, s_i_r, I wold be ffaine;

If I shold loose my bonny ladye,

How shall I increase yo_u_r goods againe?'

'Why, if thou winn thy lady ffaire,

Thou maye well fforth for to pay mee;

If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe;

Not one penny I will aske thee.'

'M_aster_, you haue thirty horsses in one hold,

You keepe them ranke and royallye;

There's an old horsse,--for him you doe not care--

This day wold sett my lady ffree.

'_Tha_t is a white, w_i_th a cutt tayle,

Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee;

Giffe you wold lend me _tha_t old horsse,

Then I shold gett her easilye.'

'Thou takes a ffoolish p_ar_t,' the Lo_rd_ Iockye sayd

'And a ffoolish p_ar_t thou takes on thee;

Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was,

_Tha_t forty pounds cost more nor hee.'

'O m_aster_, those horsses beene wild and wicked,

And litle they can skill of the old traine;

Giffe I be out of my saddle cast,

They beene soe wild they'le neuer be tane againe.

'Lett me haue age, sober and wise;

Itt is a p_ar_t of wisdome, you know itt plaine;

If I be out of my sadle cast,

Hee'le either stand still or turne againe.'

'Thou shalt haue _tha_t horsse w_i_th all my hart,

And my cote-plate of siluer ffree,

And a hundred men att thy backe,

For to fight if neede shalbee.'

'I thanke you, m_aster_,' said Tho_mas_ a Potts,

'Neither man nor boy shall goe w_i_th mee;

As you are a lord off honor borne,

Let none of my ffellowes know this of mee.

'Ffor if they wott of my goinge,

I wott behind me they will not bee;

W_i_thout you keepe them vnder a locke,

Vppon _tha_t greene I shall them see.'

And when Tho_mas_ came to Gilford Greene,

And walked there some houres three,

Then was he ware of the Lo_rd_ Phenix,

And four men in his companye.

'You haue broken yo_u_r vow,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Pott,

'Yo_u_r vowe _tha_t you made vnto mee;

You said you wold come yo_u_r selfe alone,

And you haue brought more then two or three.'

'These are my waiting-men,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayd,

'_Tha_t euery day doe waite on mee;

Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr,

My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.'

'I'le runn noe race,' said Tho_mas_ Potts,

'Till _tha_t this othe heere made may bee:

If the one of vs be slaine,

The other fforgiuen _tha_t hee may bee.'

'I'le make a vow,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes,

'My men shall beare wittnesse w_i_th thee,

Giffe thou slay mee att this time,

Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.'

Then they turned their horsses round about,

To run the race more egarlye;

Lo_rd_ Phenix he was stiffe and stout,

He has runn Tho_mas_ quite thorrow the thye.

And beere Tho_mas_ out of his saddle ffaire;

Vpon the ground there did hee lye;

He saies, For my liffe I doe not care,

But ffor the loue of my ladye.

But shall I lose my ladye ffaire?

I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe;

I pray thee, Lo_rd_ Phenix, ryde not away,

For w_i_th thee I will loose my liffe.

Tho Tho_mas_ a Potts was a seruing-man,

He was alsoe a phisityan good;

He clapt his hand vpon his wound,

W_i_th some kind of words he stauncht the blood.

Then into his sadle againe hee leepe;

The blood in his body began to warme;

He mist Lo_rd_ Phenix bodye there,

But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme.

And he bore him quite out of his saddle ffaire;

Vpon the ground there did he lye;

He said, I pray thee, Lo_rd_ Phenix, rise and ffight,

Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee.

'To ffight w_i_th thee,' q_uo_th Phenix, 'I cannott stand,

Nor ffor to ffight, I cannott, sure;

Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme;

Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure.

'Thou'st haue _tha_t ladye w_i_th all my hart,

Sith itt was like neuer better to proue.

Nor neuer a noble-man this day,

_Tha_t will seeke to take a pore man's loue.'

'Why then, be of good cheere,' saies Tho_mas_ Pott,

'Indeed your bucher I'le neuer bee,

For I'le come and stanche yo_u_r bloode,

Giff any thankes you'le giue to mee.'

As he was stanching the Phenix blood,

These words Tho_mas_ a Pott cann to him proue:

'I'le neuer take a ladye of you thus,

But here I'le giue you another choice.

'Heere is a lane of two miles longe;

Att either end sett wee will bee;

The ladye shall sitt vs betweene,

And soe will wee sett this ladye ffree.'

'If thou'le doe soe,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes,

'Tho_mas_ a Pott, as thou dost tell mee,

Whether I gett her or goe without her,

Heere's forty pounds I'le giue itt thee.'

And when the ladye there can stand,

A woman's mind that day to proue,

'Now, by my ffaith,' said this ladye ffaire,

'This day Tho_mas_ a Pott shall haue his owne loue.'

Toward Tho_mas_ a Pott the lady shee went,

To leape behind him hastilye;

'Nay, abyde a while,' sayd Lo_rd_ Phenix,

'Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee.

'Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids--

In number with thee thou hast but three--

Tho_mas_ a Pott and I'le goe beyond yonder wall,

There the one of vs shall dye.'

And when they came beyond the wall,

The one wold not the other nye;

Lo_rd_ Phenix he had giuen his word

W_i_th Tho_mas_ a Pott neuer to ffight.

'Giue me a choice,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes,

'Tho_mas_ a Pott, I doe pray thee;

Lett mee goe to yonder ladye ffaire,

To see whether shee be true to thee.'

And when hee came _tha_t ladye too,

Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee,

Now God thee saue, thou ladye ffaire,

The heyre of all my land thou'st bee.

Ffor this Tho_mas_ a Potts I haue slaine;

He hath more then deadlye wounds two or three;

Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd,

And marryed together wee will bee.

The ladye said, If Tho_mas_ a Potts this day thou haue slaine,

Thou hast slaine a better man than eu_er_ was thee;

And I'le sell all the state of my lande

But thou'st be hanged on a gallow-tree.

With _tha_t they lady shee ffell in a soone;

A greeued woman, I wott, was shee;

Lo_rd_ Phenix hee was readye there,

Tooke her in his armes most hastilye.

'O Lo_rd_, sweete, and stand on thy ffeete,

This day Tho_mas_ a Pott aliue can bee;

I'le send ffor thy father, the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale,

And marryed together I will you see:

Giffe hee will not maintaine you well,

Both gold and land you shall haue from me.'

'I'le see _tha_t wedding,' my Lo_rd_ of Arrundale said,

'Of my daughter's loue _tha_t is soe ffaire;

And sith itt will no better be,

Of all my land Tho_mas_ a Pott shall be my heyre.'

'Now all my maids,' the ladye said,

'And ladyes of England, faire and ffree,

Looke you neuer change yo_ur_ old loue for no new,

Nor neuer change for no pouertye.

'Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne,

A seruing-man of a small degree;

Ffrom Tho_mas_ a Pott I'le turne his name,

And the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale hee shall bee.'

#a.# London, printed for F. Coles, and others, 1677,

Bodleian Library, Wood, 259. #b.# Pepys Penny Merriments,

I, 189, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge.

Of all the lords in Scotland fair,

And ladies that been so bright of blee,

There is a noble lady among them all,

And report of her you shall hear by me.

For of her beauty she is bright,

And of her colour very fair;

She's daughter to Lord Arundel,

Approvd his parand and his heir.

'I'le see this bride,' Lord Phenix said,

'That lady of so bright a blee,

And if I like her countenance well,

The heir of all my lands she'st be.'

But when he came the lady before,

Before this comely maid came he,

'O God thee save, thou lady sweet,

My heir and parand thou shalt be.'

'Leave off your suit,' the lady said,

'As you are a lord of high degree;

You may have ladies enough at home,

And I have a lord in mine own country.

'For I have a lover true of mine own,

A serving-man of low degree,

One Tommy Pots it is his name,

My first love and last that ever shall be.'

'If that Tom Pots is his name,

I do ken him right verily;

I am able to spend fourty pounds a week,

Where he is not able to spend pounds three.'

'God give you good of your gold,' she said,

'And ever God give you good of your fee;

Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had,

And I do mean him the last to be.'

With that Lord Phenix soon was movd;

Towards the lady did he threat;

He told her father, and so it was provd,

How his daughter's mind was set.

'O daughter dear, thou art my own,

The heir of all my lands to be;

Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix,

If that thou mean to be heir to me.'

'O father dear, I am your own,

And at your command I needs must be;

But bind my body to whom you please,

My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee.'

Alas! the lady her fondness must leave,

And all her foolish wooing lay aside;

The time is come, her friends have appointed,

That she must be Lord Phenix bride.

With that the lady began to weep;

She knew not well then what to say,

How she might Lord Phenix deny,

And escape from marriage quite away.

See calld unto her little foot-page,

Saying, I can trust none but thee;

Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair,

And bid him on Guilford Green meet me.

For I must marry against my mind,

Or in faith well proved it shall be;

And tell to him I am loving and kind,

And wishes him this wedding to see.

But see that thou note his countenance well,

And his colour, and shew it to me;

And go thy way and hie thee again,

And forty shillings I will give thee.

For if he smile now with his lips,

His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart;

Then may I seek another true-love,

For of Tom Pots small is my part.

But if he blush now in his face,

Then in his heart he will sorry be;

Then to his vow he hath some grace,

And false to him I will never be.

Away this lacky-boy he ran,

And a full speed forsooth went he,

Till he came to Strawberry Castle,

And there Tom Pots came he to see.

He gave him the letter in his hand;

Before that he began to read,

He told him plainly by word of mouth,

His love was forc'd to be Lord Phenix bride.

When he lookd on the letter fair,

The salt tears blemished his eye;

Says, I cannot read this letter fair,

Nor never a word to see or spy.

My little boy, be to me true,

Here is five marks I will give thee;

And all these words I must peruse,

And tell my lady this from me.

By faith and troth she is my own,

By some part of promise, so it's to be found;

Lord Phoenix shall not have her night nor day,

Except he can win her with his own hand.

On Guilford Green I will her meet;

Say that I wish her for me to pray;

For there I'le lose my life so sweet,

Or else the wedding I mean to stay.

Away this lackey-boy he ran,

Even as fast as he could hie;

The lady she met him two miles of the way;

Says, Why hast thou staid so long, my boy?

My little boy, thou art but young,

It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn;

I'le not believe thee by word of mouth,

Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn.

'Now by this book,' the boy did say,

'And Jesus Christ be as true to me,

Tom Pots could not read the letter fair,

Nor never a word to spy or see.

'He says, by faith and troth you are his own,

By some part of promise, so it's to be found;

L_ord_ Phenix shall not have you night nor day,

Except he win you with his own hand.

'On Guilford Green he will you meet;

He wishes you for him to pray;

For there he'l lose his life so sweet,

Or else the wedding he means to stay.'

'If this be true, my little boy,

These tidings which thou tellest to me,

Forty shillings I did thee promise,

Here is ten pounds I will give thee.

'My maidens all,' the lady said,

'That ever wish me well to prove,

Now let us all kneel down and pray

That Tommy Pots may win his love.

'If it be his fortune the better to win,

As I pray to Christ in Trinity,

I'le make him the flower of all his kin,

For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.'

Let's leave talking of this lady fair,

In prayers full good where she may be;

Now let us talk of Tommy Pots;

To his lord and master for aid went he.

But when he came Lord Jockey before,

He kneeled lowly on his knee:

'What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,

Thou art so full of courtesie?

'What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots,

Thou art so full of courtesie?

Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,

Or wrought to me some villany.'

'I have slain none of my fellows fair,

Nor wrought to you no villany,

But I have a love in Scotland fair,

And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.

'If you'l not believe me by word of mouth,

But read this letter, and you shall see,

Here by all these suspitious words

That she her own self hath sent to me.'

But when he had read the letter fair,

Of all the suspitious words in it might be,

'O Tommy Pots, take thou no care,

Thou'st never lose her with poverty.

'For thou'st have forty pounds a week,

In gold and silver thou shalt row,

And Harvy Town I will give thee

As long as thou intendst to wooe.

'Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair,

And forty horses to go with thee,

Forty of the best spears I have,

And I my self in thy company.'

'I thank you, master,' said Tommy Pots,

'That proffer is too good for me;

But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side,

My own hands shall set her free.

'God be with you, master,' said Tommy Pots,

'Now Jesus Christ you save and see;

If ever I come alive again,

Staid the wedding it shall be.'

'O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots,

Thou art well proved for a man;

See never a drop of blood thou spil,

Nor yonder gentleman confound.

'See that some truce with him you take,

And appoint a place of liberty;

Let him provide him as well as he can,

As well provided thou shalt be.'

But when he came to Guilford Green,

And there had walkt a little aside,

There was he ware of Lord Phenix come,

And Lady Rosamond his bride.

Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went,

But never a word to her did say,

Till he the Lord Phenix came before;

He gave him the right time of the day.

'O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots,

Thou serving-man of low degree;

How doth thy lord and master at home,

And all the ladies in that countrey?'

'My lord and master is in good health,

I trust since that I did him see;

Will you walk with me to an out-side,

Two or three words to talk with me?

'You are a noble man,' said Tom,

'And born a lord in Scotland free;

You may have ladies enough at home,

And never take my love from me.'

'Away, away, thou Tommy Pots;

Thou serving-man, stand thou aside;

It is not a serving-man this day

That can hinder me of my bride.'

'If I be a serving-man,' said Tom,

'And you a lord of high degree,

A spear or two with you I'le run,

Before I'le lose her cowardly.

'Appoint a place, I will thee meet,

Appoint a place of liberty;

For there I'le lose my life so sweet,

Or else my lady I'le set free.'

'On Guilford Green I will thee meet;

No man nor boy shall come with me:'

'As I am a man,' said Tommy Pots,

'I'le have as few in my company.'

And thus staid the marriage was,

The bride unmarried went home again;

Then to her maids fast did she laugh,

And in her heart she was full fain.

'My maidens all,' the lady said,

'That ever wait on me this day,

Now let us all kneel down,

And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.

'If it be his fortune the better to win,

As I trust to God in Trinity,

I'le make him the flower of all his kin,

For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.'

When Tom Pots came home again,

To try for his love he had but a week;

For sorrow, God wot, he need not care,

For four days that he fel sick.

With that his master to him came,

Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt

Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady,

Or thou must go thy love without.

'O master, yet it is unknown;

Within these two days well try'd it must be;

He is a lord, I am but a serving-man,

I fear I shall lose her with poverty.'

'I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet;

My former promises kept shall be;

As I am a lord in Scotland fair,

Thou'st never lose her with poverty.

'For thou'st have the half of my lands a year,

And that will raise thee many a pound;

Before thou shalt out-braved be,

Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground.'

'I thank you, master,' said Tommy Pots,

'Yet there is one thing of you I would fain;

If that I lose my lady sweet,

How I'st restore your goods again?'

'If that thou win the lady sweet,

Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me;

If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough;

Thou shalt not pay me one penny.'

'You have thirty horses in one close,

You keep them all both frank and free;

Amongst them all there's an old white horse

This day would set my lady free.

'That is an old horse with a cut tail,

Full sixteen years of age is he;

If thou wilt lend me that old horse,

Then could I win her easily.'

'That's a foolish opinion,' his master said,

'And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee;

Thou'st have a better then ever he was,

Though forty pounds more it cost me.'

'O your choice horses are wild and tough,

And little they can skill of their train;

If I be out of my saddle cast,

They are so wild they'l ner be tain.'

'Thou'st have that horse,' his master said,

'If that one thing thou wilt tell me;

Why that horse is better than any other,

I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.'

'That horse is old, of stomach bold,

And well can he skill of his train;

If I be out of my saddle cast,

He'l either stand still or turn again.'

'Thou'st have the horse with all my heart,

And my plate-coat of silver free;

An hundred men to stand at thy back,

To fight if he thy master be.'

'I thank you master,' said Tommy Pots,

'That proffer is too good for me;

I would not, for ten thousand pounds,

Have man or boy in my company.

'God be with you, master,' said Tommy Pots;

'Now, as you are a man of law,

One thing let me crave at your hand;

Let never a one of my fellows know.

'For if that my fellows they did wot,

Or ken of my extremity,

Except you keep them under a lock,

Behind me I am sure they would not be.'

But when he came to Guilford Green,

He waited hours two or three;

There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,

And four men in his company.

'You have broken your vow,' said Tommy Pots,

'The vow which you did make to me;

You said you would bring neither man nor boy,

And now has brought more than two or three.'

'These are my men,' Lord Phenix said,

'Which every day do wait on me;

[If] any of these dare proffer to strike,

I'le run my spear through his body.'

'I'le run no race now,' said Tommy Pots,

'Except now this may be;

If either of us be slain this day,

The other shall forgiven be.'

'I'le make that vow with all my heart,

My men shall bear witness with me;

And if thou slay me here this day,

In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.'

They turnd their horses thrice about,

To run the race so eagerly;

Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,

And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th' thigh.

He bord him out of the saddle fair,

Down to the ground so sorrowfully:

'For the loss of my life I do not care,

But for the loss of my fair lady.

'Now for the loss of my lady sweet,

Which once I thought to have been my wife,

I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,

For with thee I would end my life.'

Tom Pots was but a serving-man,

But yet he was a doctor good;

He bound his handkerchief on his wound,

And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.

He leapt into his saddle again,

The blood in his body began to warm;

He mist Lord Phenix body fair,

_And_ ran him through the brawn of the arm.

He bord him out of his saddle fair,

Down to the ground most sorrowfully;

Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,

Or yield my lady unto me.

'Now for to fight I cannot tell,

And for to fight I am not sure;

Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th' arm,

That with a spear I may not endure.

'Thou'st have the lady with all my heart;

It was never likely better to prove

With me, or any nobleman else,

That would hinder a poor man of his love.'

'Seeing you say so much,' said Tommy Pots,

'I will not seem your butcher to be;

But I will come and stanch your blood,

If any thing you will give me.'

As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood,

Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce!

'I'le not take the lady from you thus,

But of her you'st have another choice.

'Here is a lane of two miles long;

At either end we set will be;

The lady shall stand us among,

Her own choice shall set her free.'

'If thou'l do so,' Lord Phenix said,

'To lose her by her own choice it's honesty;

Chuse whether I get her or go her without,

Forty pounds I will give thee.'

But when they in that lane was set,

The wit of a woman for to prove,

'By the faith of my body,' the lady said,

'Then Tom Pots must needs have his love.'

Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie,

To get on behind him hastily;

'Nay stay, nay stay,' Lord Phenix said,

'Better proved it shall be.

'Stay you with your maidens here here--

In number fair they are but three--

Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall,

That one of us two be proved to dye.'

But when they came behind the wall,

The one came not the other nigh;

For the Lord Phenix had made a vow,

That with Tom Pots he would never fight.

'O give me this choice,' Lord Phenix said,

'To prove whether true or false she be,

And I will go to the lady fair,

And tell her Tom Pots slain is he.'

When he came from behind the wall,

With his face all bloody as it might be,

'O lady sweet, thou art my own,

For Tom Pots slain have I.

'Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots,

And given him death's wounds two or three;

O lady sweet, thou art my own;

Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?'

'If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots,

And given him death's wounds two or three,

I'le sell the state of my father's lands

But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.'

With that the lady fell in a swound,

For a grieved woman, God wot, was she;

Lord Phenix he was ready then

To take her up so hastily.

100

'O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet,

Tom Pots alive this day may be;

I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,

And he and I the wedding will see.

101

'I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,

And he and I the wedding will see;

If he will not maintain you well,

Both lands and livings you'st have of me.'

102

'I'le see this wedding,' Lord Arundel said,

'Of my daughter's luck that is so fair;

Seeing the matter will be no better,

Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.'

103

With that the lady began for to smile,

For a glad woman, God wot, was she;

'Now all my maids,' the lady said,

'Example you may take by me.

104

'But all the ladies of Scotland fair,

And lasses of England that well would prove,

Neither marry for gold nor goods,

Nor marry for nothing but only love.

105

'For I had a lover true of my own,

A serving-man of low degree;

Now from Tom Pots I'le change his name,

For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.'

A white letter sheet in five columns, "published May 29,

1657," The King's Pamphlets, British Museum, 669, f. 20,

55.

In Scotland there are ladies fair,

There's ladies of honor and high degree,

Hey down, down a down derry

But one excels above all the rest,

And the Earl of Arundel's daughter is she.

With hey down, derry down,

Lang derry down derry

Both knights and lords of great account

Comes thither a wooing for this ladie's sake:

It fell on a day that E_arl_ Arundell said,

Daughter, which of these lords will you take?

Or which of them now likes thee best?

Speak truth to me, but do not lie;

Speak truth to me, and do not jest,

Who must heir my livings when as I die?

Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree,

And hath both lands and livings free;

I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have,

If thou wilt take any counsell at me.

With that the young lady fell down of her knee,

And trickling tears ran down her eye:

'As you are my father, and loves me dear,

My heart is set where it must be.

'On a serving-man which is so poor,

For all he hath is but pounds three;

He was the first lover that ere I had,

And the last I mean him for to be.'

With that her father was sore offended,

And fast he rode at that same tide,

Untill he to the Lord Fenix came,

And said, Take thee my daughter for thy bride.

The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy:

'I dare trust no man alive but thee;

Thou must go my earand to Strawbery Castle,

To the place where Tomy o'th Potts doth lye.

'And carry this letter, in parchment fair,

That I have sealed with mine own hand;

And when Tomey looks this letter upon,

Be sure his countenance thou understand.

'And if he either laugh or smile,

He is not sorry at his heart;

I must seek a new love where I will,

For small of Tomey must be my part.

'But if he wax red in the face,

And tricling tears fall from his eyes,

Then let my father say what he will,

For true to Tomey I'le be always.

'And thou must tell him by word of mouth,

If this letter cannot be read at that tyde,

That this day sennight, and no longer hence,

I must be Lord William Fenix bride.'

The boy took leave of his lady gay,

And to Strawbery Castle he did him fast hie;

A serving-man did guide him the way

To the place where Tomey o'th Pots did lie.

'O Christ thee save, good Tomey o'th Pots,

And Christ thee save as I thee see;

Come read this letter, Tomey o'th Potts,

As thy true-love hath sent to thee.'

Then Tomey he waxed red in the face,

And trickling tears ran down his eyes;

But never a letter could he read,

If he should be hanged on th' gallow-tree.

'Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth,

If this letter could not be read at this tide,

That this day sennight, and no longer hence,

She must be Lord William Fenix bride.'

'Now in faith,' said Tomey, 'she is mine own,

As all hereafter shall understand;

Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day,

Unless he win her by his own hand.

'For on Gilforth Green I will her meet,

And if she love me, bid her for me pray;

And there I will lose my life so sweet,

Or else her wedding I will stay.'

He cald this boy unto accounts;

Think whether he loved this lady gay!

He gave him forty shilling for his message,

And all he had was but pounds three.

The boy took his leave of Tomey o'th Potts,

Fearing that he had staid too late;

The young lady did wait of his comming,

And met him five miles out of the gate.

'O boney boy, thou art not of age,

Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn;

I will not beleeve what my love hath said,

Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.'

'Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,'

And kist the book full soon did he:

'One letter he could not read at that time,

If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree.

'He said in faith you are his own,

As all hereafter shall understand;

Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day,

Unlesse he winn you with his own hand.

'For on Gilforth Green he will you meet,

And if you love him, you must for him pray;

And there he will lose his life so sweet,

Or else your wedding he will stay.'

Let us leave talking of the boy,

That with his gay lady is turned home;

Now let us go talk of Tomey o'th Potts,

And how to his master he is gone.

When Tomey came his master before,

He kneeled down upon his knee:

'What tidings hast thou brought, my man,

As that thou makes such courtesie?'

'O Christ you save, dear master,' he said,

'And Christ you save as I you see;

For God's love, master, come read me this letter,

Which my true love hath sent to me.'

His master took this letter in hand,

And looked ore it with his eye;

'In faith, I am fain, my man,' he said,

'As thou hast a lady so true to thee.'

'I have a lady true to me,

And false to her I'le never be;

But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence,

I must lose my love through povertie.

'Lord Fenix he will her have,

Because he hath more wealth then I:'

'Now hold thy tongue, my man,' he said,

'For before that day many a one shall die.

'O Tomey,' said he, 'I love thee well,

And something for thee I will doo;

For Strawbery Castle shall be thine own

So long as thou dost mean to woo.

'One half of my lands I'le give thee a year,

The which will raise thee many a pound;

Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart,

Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground.

'I have thirty steeds in my stable strong.

Which any of them is good indeed,

And a bunch of spears hangs them among,

And a nag to carry thee swift with speed.

'My sute of armour thou shalt put on--

So well it becomes thy fair body--

And when thou comst on Gilford Green

Thou'll look more like a lord then he.

'My men shall all rise and with thee go,

And I my self with thee will ride;

And many a bloody wound will we make

Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.'

'Now Christ reward you, dear master,' he said,

'For the good will you bear to me;

But I trust to God, in a little space,

With my own hands to set her free.

'I'le none of your horses, master,' he said,

'For they cannot well skill of their trade;

None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail,

For hee'll either stand or turn again.

'One spear, master, and no more,

No more with me that I will take,

And if that spear it will not serve my turn,

I'le suffer death for my true-love's sake.'

Early in the morning, when day did spring,

On Gilforth Green betime was he;

There did he espie Lord Fenix comming,

And with him a royall company.

Gold chains about their necks threescore,

Full well might seem fine lords to ride;

The young lady followed far behind,

Sore against her will that she was a bride.

There Tomey passed this lady by,

But never a word to her did say;

Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone,

And gives him the right time of the day.

'O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,' he said,

'And Christ you save as I you see;'

'Thou art welcome, Tomey o'th Potts,' he said,

'A serving-man into our company.

'O how doth thy master, Tomy o'th Potts?

Tell me the truth and do not lye;'

'My master is well,' then Tomey replide,

'I thank my lord, and I thank not thee.

'O Christ you save Lord Fenix,' he said,

'And Christ you save as I you see;

You may have choyce of ladies enough,

And not take my true-love from me.'

With that Lord Fenix was sore offended,

And fast away he rode at that tide;

'God forbid,' Lord Fenix he said,

'A serving-man should hold me from my bride!'

But afterward Tomey did him meet,

As one that came not thither to flye,

And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love,

For I will not lose her cowardly.

'O meet me here tomorrow,' he said;

'As thou art a man, come but thy sell;

And if that I come [with] any more,

The divell fetch my soul to hell.'

And so this wedding-day was staid,

The lady and lords they turned home;

The lady made merry her maidens among,

And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own.

Early in the morning, when day did spring,

On Gilforth Green betime was he;

He waited long for Lord Fenix comming,

But Lord William Fenix he could not see.

He waited long and very long,

Untill the sun waxed very high;

There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming,

And with him other men three.

'Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,' he said,

'Because thou breakst thy promise with me;

Thou promisedst me to come by thy self,

And thou hast brought other men three.

'But in regard I call thee thief,

Because thou hast broken promise with me,

I vow, and you were as many more,

Forsaken sure you should not be.'

'These are my men,' Lord Fenix said,

'That every day do wait on me;

If any of them do strike a stroke,

In faith then hanged he shall be.'

They fetcht a race and rode about,

And then they met full eagerly;

Lord Fenix away by Tomey's body glowd,

And he ran him quite thorow the thigh.

Out of his saddle bore him he did,

And laid his body on the ground;

His spear he ran thorow Tomey's thigh,

In which he made a grievous wound.

But Tomey quickly start up again;

For as he was a physitian good,

He laid his hand upon the wound,

And quickly he did stanch the blood.

Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again,

Forth of it long he did not stay;

For he weighed more of the ladie's love

Then of any life he had that day.

They fetched a race and rode about,

The blood in Tomey's body began to warm;

He away by Lord Fenix body glowde,

And he ran him quite through the arm.

Out of his saddle bore him he hath,

Of from his steed that mounted so high;

'Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,' he said,

'Or else yeeld the lady unto me.'

'I'll yeeld the lady unto thee;

My arm no more my spear will guide;

It was never better likely to prove,

To hold a poor serving-man from his bride.'

'But if thou wilt thus deal then with me,

Lest of this matter should rise any voice,

That I have gotten the victory,

Then thou shalt have another choice.

'Yonder is a lane of two miles long;

At either end then stand will we;

Wee 'l set the lady in the midst,

And whether she come to, take her, for me.'

'If thou wilt thus deal,' said Fenix then,

'Thou 'll save my credit and honor high;

And whether I win her, or go without her,

I'le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.'

There was a lane of two miles long;

The lady was set in the middle that tide;

She laught and made merry her maids among,

And said, Tomey o'th Pots, now I 'le be thy bride.

Now all you ladies of high degree,

And maides that married yet would be,

Marry no man for goods or lands,

Unlesse you love him faithfully.

For I had a love of my own, she said,

At Strawberrie Castle there lived he;

I'le change his name from Tomey o'th Pots,

And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.

* * * * *

#A.#

6^1. of nine.

6^3. _at the end of the stanza._

7^3. spend 40^{li}_{:}.

7^4. pounds 3.

11^3. _There is a mark like an undotted_ i, _in the MS.,

before the_ y _of_ appoynted. _Furnivall._

15^4. 40.

20^3. camot.

21^2, 24^3. 5.

21^3. must pursue.

27^3. 40^{s}_{.}.

27^4. 10^{li}_{.}.

29^1. wim.

33^2, 33^3. _Stanza 35 is written between these lines,

"but marked by a bracket, and by Percy, to go in its

proper place." Furnivall._

35^1. 40^{li}_{.}.

36^1. 40^{tye}_{.}.

36^{2, 3}. 40.

36^4. _Only half the_ n _of_ companye _in the MS.

Furnivall._

37^3. 1000^{li}_{:}.

46^3. or 2.

51, 52 _are bracketed as beginning the_ 2^{d}_{:} parte.

51^4. cane.

52^4. for 4.

54^2. 2.

56^{1, 2, 3}. 40.

57^3. bomy.

59^1. 30.

60^2. 16.

61^3. the euer.

61^4. 40^{li}_{.}.

64^3. 100^{d}_{.}.

67^2. 3.

67^4. 4.

68^4. 2 or 3.

72^2. rum.

75^1. Then.

81^1. stamching.

81^2. him praie, _perhaps_.

82^1. 2.

83^4. 40^{li}_{:}.

86^2. 3.

90^2. 2 or 3.

93^5. you maintaine.

96^1. owme.

And _for_ & _throughout_.

#B.#

The Lovers Quarrel, or, Cupids Triumph, being the

Pleasant History of Fair Rosamond of Scotland: being

daughter to the Lord Arundel, whose love was obtained by

the valour of Tommy Pots, who conquered the Lord Phenix,

and wounded him, and after obtained her to be his wife.

#a.#

London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright and J.

Clarke. 1677.

16^3. high thee.

30^4. then pounds.

48^2. since _is torn_.

68^2. me tell.

75^4. or 3.

And _for_ & _throughout_.

_After_ 32: The Second Part.

_After_ 56: The Third Part.

#b.#

7^1. it is.

13^4. quite _wanting_.

15^1. my will.

15^3. to _wanting_.

16^1. see you.

16^2. hye thee.

17^2. give me.

18^2. merry be.

18^4. I will.

19^1. run.

24^2. So that.

25^3. three miles.

26^2. thoult.

27^3. this letter.

27^4. see or spy.

29^2. to stay.

33^1. leaving.

38^4, 60^4, 78^4. ne'r.

42^2. Christ Jesus.

44^1. him you make.

46^2. A serving-man of low degree.

48^4. to speak.

53^1. will you.

55^4. Tom.

58^2. prithee.

58^3. lady gay.

59^3. am _wanting_.

60^1. stand thou on.

61^1. the _wanting_.

63^2. mayst forthwith.

64^3. there is.

66^2. takest.

66^3. than.

66^4. pound.

69^1. of courage.

69^2. he can.

70^1. that horse.

73^1. that _wanting_.

73^3. kept.

74^4. in their.

75^4. then.

77^2. now that this.

81^4. would I.

82^4. kind of _wanting_.

85^4. I cannot.

87^1. thou say'st.

89^4. And her.

90^1. thoult.

90^2. loose: 't is.

91^4. needs must.

92^2. get behind him so.

93^3. I'le.

93^4. the one.

94^4. never try: _right?_

96^4. _Ritson prints_ slain is he.

98^3. estate.

101^4. thou'st have.

103^1. for _wanting_.

104^1. ladies in.

104^2. ladies of.

_A copy in_ "Northern Penny Histories," Bodleian Library,

Douce, p. p. 172, London, William Dicey, _which may date

about 1725, is somewhat modernized and has not a few

petty variations. Only the following readings seem worth

the noting._

9^2. fast he did.

15^1. my will.

19^3. Salisbury Castle.

44^1. you make.

60^1. stand on.

85^1. How for.

94^4. never try.

96^4. have I.

_This copy has an additional stanza:_

106.

The lady she did loyal prove,

As many do in Scotland know,

And how they spent their days in love

The Second Book shall plainly show.

#C.#

The two constant Lovers in Scotland, or, A pattern of

true Love, expressed in this ensuing Dialogue between an

Earls daughter in Scotland and a poor Serving-man; she

refusing to marry the Lord Fenix, which her father would

force her to take, but clave to her first Love, Tomey

o'th Pots.

And _for_ &.

29^3. senninght.

47^2. self.

_After_ 38: The Second Part.

110

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER

#A.# 'The Beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia.' #a.#

Roxburghe Ballads, III, 160, 161. #b.# Roxburghe Ballads,

II, 30, 31. 27 stanzas.

#B.# 'Shepherd's Dochter,' Kinloch MSS, V, 255. 33

stanzas.

#C.# 'Earl Richard,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 69. 30 stanzas.

#D.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 68, fragments. 16 stanzas.

#E.# 'Earl Richard, the Queen's Brother.' #a.# Buchan's

Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 81. #b.#

Motherwell's MS., p. 459; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p.

377. 60 stanzas.

#F.# 'Earl Lithgow.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the

North of Scotland, II, 91. 63 stanzas. #b.# Christie's

Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 184. 22 stanzas.

#G.# 'Jo Janet,' Gibb MS., No 1. 34 stanzas.

#H.# 'The Shepherd's Daughter,' Kinloch MSS, V, 20; also,

Kinloch MSS, VII, 61, and Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p.

25. 19 stanzas.

#I.# Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, from his own

recollection. 11 stanzas.

#J.# 'Earl Richard,' Dr J. Robertson's Journal of

Excursions, No 7. 17(?) stanzas.

#K.# 'The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter,'

Motherwell's MS., p. 226. 18 stanzas.

#L.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 1. 3 stanzas.

The only English version of this ballad is a broadside, found in the

Roxburghe Collection.[172] It was given from a black-letter copy,

with changes and the omission of stanza 4, in the Reliques of Ancient

English Poetry, 1765, III, 75. Hearne, in his preface to Guilielmi

Neubrigensis Historia, I, lxx (cited by Percy), remarks that some

impressions were adorned with the picture of a queen, meant, as he

maintains, to be Elizabeth, and quotes the first stanza.[173] From

this Percy infers that the ballad was popular in Elizabeth's time, a

supposition probable enough in itself, and confirmed by the fifteenth

stanza occurring (as Percy notes) in Fletcher's comedy of 'The

Pilgrim,' 1621.[174]

Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxvi, says that the ballad was

current in Scotland in many shapes (1827).

The copy in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 13, is #C#, with the

stanzas given here as #D# incorporated into it from another version.

Kinloch is fully justified in claiming for the Scottish ballad a

decided superiority. The humorous artifices which the lady practises

to maintain the character of a beggar's brat are, as he says, kept up

with great spirit and fancy, and, as far as we know, are entirely of

Scottish invention. It might perhaps be objected that in the course

of tradition they have been exaggerated in later copies to a point

threatening weariness.

The passage in which the knight rides off and is followed so closely by

the maid, through river and all, #A# 6-8, #B# 5-10, etc., is found also

in 'Child Waters,' #A# 11-16, #B# 4-11, etc., and suits both ballads

perhaps equally well.

Parts of this ballad inevitably suggest a parallel with the tales

belonging to the class of the 'Marriage of Sir Gawain.'[175] In the

Wife of Bath's Tale, a lusty bachelor who has been out hawking meets

a maid walking, and forces her to yield to his will. The offence is

brought before King Arthur,[176] and the knight, as he is also called,

is condemned to death. The alternative of marrying is so distasteful to

him that he tries every means to avoid it. 'Take all my good,' he says

to the woman, 'but let my body go.' But all for naught. Dame Ragnell

makes a point of being wedded in high style; so does our shepherd's

daughter in #E# 37, 38, #F# 38, 39. In Gower, the knight takes the

woman on his horse and rides away sighing; and they also have a cauld

and eerie ride in #E# 39. The bride becomes, if possible, more and more

repulsive in the Gawain tales, and endeavors to make herself so in the

ballad. As in the tales, so in the ballad, the bridegroom will not turn

about and make much of her, #C# 29, #E# 56, #G# 30. The ugly woman

turns out to be a king's daughter in Gower's tale, a most desirable

wife in all the others; and the shepherdess is a king's daughter in

#B#, #E#, #F#, #K#, and at least an excellent match in other copies.

The knight is nephew to a king or emperor in three of the tales, and

the queen's brother or the king's in nearly all the ballads.[177] Even

the Billy Blin in #F# 60-63, #G# 31, 32, cf. #D# 15,16, looks like a

remnant of the fairy machinery of the Gawain tales.

The tragic ballad of 'Ebbe Galt,' Danske Viser, II, 47, No 63, has

several features in common with 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.'

Ebbe Galt has been drinking heavily with the king's men. Riding home

through a wood, he meets in an evil hour a farmer's pretty wife, and

offers her presents to show him the way to the town. She undertakes

to do so, though much afraid. They come to the farmer's house. Ebbe

Galt begins to ban and beat, and in the end ravishes the woman, using

extreme cruelty. She says, Now you have had your will of me, with

little good to either of us, for God's sake tell me your name.[178] He

declares himself to be Ebbe Galt. The farmer comes home and is told

all. He comforts his wife and goes to make his plaint to the king. If

any man in the court has done this, says the king, it shall cost him

his life. When he learns that the man is his nephew, he would rather

than half Denmark not have pronounced so harsh a doom. Ebbe Galt is

summoned to answer for himself. He is not much better sober than drunk,

though the ballad lays the fault on ale. He tells the farmer to produce

his wife; she will make no complaint. The woman gives her evidence. She

had treated Ebbe Galt with all hospitality as her husband's guest. He

had broken in the doors of the room where she was with her children,

beaten five maids and killed three swains. Ebbe's father offers his

horse and a thousand mark as ransom. The king says that he himself, if

it lay in him, would have redeemed the youth with three thousand; Ebbe

Galt shall die. While they are taking him off, Ebbe is flippant: he

would not mind losing his life had the woman been prettier.

There is a very favorite Scandinavian ballad, see 'Tærningspillet,'

Grundtvig, IV, 402, No 238, in which a fair lady challenges a young

horse-boy, or boatswain, to play tables with her, and after having won

from him all he has, stakes herself against his shoes or the like.

The youth now wins; she makes him handsome offers, rising constantly

in value, to let her off, but he will not. God pity me! she says; but

he reveals to her that her case is not a bad one, for he is the best

king's son in the world.[179]

An imitation of the English ballad by Laplace, 'Lise et Mainfroi,'

1740, terminates more sentimentally. The shepherdess persists that

she will have the hand which the king has awarded her, until she

stands before the altar. She then declares that her sense of honor

has been satisfied, and resigns a very advantageous match (for she is

not a princess in disguise), with "Puisses-tu du moins quelquefois te

souvenir de ta bergère!" Mainfroi exclaims in a transport, Stay, deign

to be my wife! the king and all the court unite in the entreaty, and

Lise yields. She certainly is entitled to a statuette in porcelain. See

Charles Malo, Les Chansons d'Autrefois, pp. 124-128.

* * * * *

The copy in Percy's Reliques is translated by Bodmer, I, 88.

#a.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 160, 161. #b.# The same, II,

30, 31.

There was a shepherd's daughter

Came triping on the way,

And there she met a courteous knight,

Which caused her to stay.

Sing trang dil do lee

'Good morow to you, beautious maid,'

These words pronounced he;

'O I shall dye this day,' he said,

'If I have not my will of thee.'

'The Lord forbid,' the maid reply'd,

'That such a thing should be,

That ever such a courteous yong knight

Should dye for love of me.'

He took her by the middle so small,

And laid her down on the plain,

And after he had had his will,

He took her up again.

'Now you have had your wil, good sir,

And put my body thus to shame,

Even as you are a courteous knight,

Tel me what is your name.'

'Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart,

And some do call me John,

But when I come to the king's [fair] court,

They call me Sweet William.'

He set his foot in the stirrop,

And away then did he ride;

She tuckt her kirtle about her middle,

And run close by his side.

But when she came to the broad water,

She set her brest and swom,

And when she was got out again,

She took her heels and run.

He never was the courteous knight

To say, Fair maid, will you ride?

Nor she never was so loving a maid

To say, Sir Knight, abide.

But when she came to the king's fair court,

She knocked at the ring;

So ready was the king himself

To let this fair maid in.

'O Christ you save, my gracious leige,

Your body Christ save and see!

You have got a knight within your court

This day hath robbed me.

'What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid?

Of purple or of pall?

Or hath he took thy gay gold ring,

From off thy finger small?'

'He hath not robbed me, my liege,

Of purple nor of pall;

But he hath got my maidenhead,

Which grieves me worst of all.'

'Now if he be a batchelor,

His body I'le give to thee;

But if he be a married man,

High hanged shall he be.'

He called down his merry men all,

By one, by two, and by three;

Sweet William was us'd to be the first,

But now the last comes hee.

He brought her down full forty pound,

Ty'd up with[in] a glove:

'Fair maid, I give the same to the,

And seek another love.'

'O I'le have none of your gold,' she said,

'Nor I'le have none of your fee;

But I must have your fair body

The king hath given me.'

Sweet William ran and fetcht her then

Five hundred pound in gold,

Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee;

Thy fault will never be told.

''T is not your gold that shall me tempt,'

These words then answered she,

'But I must have your own body;

So the king hath granted me.'

'Would I had drank the fair water

When I did drink the wine,

That ever any shepherd's daughter

Should be a fair lady of mine!

Would I had drunk the puddle-water

When I did drink the ale,

That ever any shepherd's daughter

Should have told me such a tale!'

'A shepheard's daughter as I was,

You might have let me be;

I'd never come to the king's fair court

To have craved any love of thee.'

He set her on a milk-white steed,

And himselfe upon a gray;

He hung a bugle about his neck,

And so they rode away.

But when they came unto the place

Where marriage rites were done,

She provd her self a duke's daughter,

And he but a squire's son.

'Now you have married me, sir knight,

Your pleasures may be free;

If you make me lady of one good town,

I'le make you lord of three.'

'Accursed be the gold,' he said,

'If thou hadst not bin true,

That should have parted thee from me,

To have chang'd thee for a new.'

Their hearts being then so linked fast,

And joyning hand in hand,

He had both purse and person too,

And all at his command.

Kinloch MSS, V, 255, in the handwriting of Mr Kinloch.

There was a shepherd's dochter

Kept sheep upon yon hill,

And by cam a gay braw gentleman,

And wad hae had his will.

He took her by the milk-white hand,

And laid her on the ground,

And whan he got his will o her

He lift her up again.

'O syne ye've got your will o me,

Your will o me ye've taen,

'T is all I ask o you, kind sir,

Is to tell to me your name.'

'Sometimes they call me Jack,' he said,

'Sometimes they call me John,

But whan I am in the king's court,

My name is Wilfu Will.'

Then he loup on his milk-white steed,

And straught away he rade,

And she did kilt her petticoats,

And after him she gaed.

He never was sae kind as say,

O lassie, will ye ride?

Nor ever had she the courage to say,

O laddie, will ye bide!

Until they cam to a wan water,

Which was called Clyde,

And then he turned about his horse,

Said, Lassie, will ye ride?

'I learned it in my father's hall,

I learned it for my weel,

That whan I come to deep water,

I can swim as it were an eel.

'I learned it in my mother's bower,

I learned it for my better,

That whan I come to broad water,

I can swim like ony otter.'

He plunged his steed into the ford,

And straught way thro he rade,

And she set in her lilly feet,

And thro the water wade.

And whan she cam to the king's court,

She tirled on the pin,

And wha sae ready's the king himsel

To let the fair maid in?

'What is your will wi me, fair maid?

What is your will wi me?'

'There is a man into your court

This day has robbed me.'

'O has he taen your gold,' he said,

'Or has he taen your fee?

Or has he stown your maidenhead,

The flower of your bodye?'

'He has na taen my gold, kind sir,

Nor as little has he taen my fee,

But he has taen my maidenhead,

The flower of my bodye.'

'O gif he be a married man,

High hangit shall he be,

But gif he be a bachelor,

His body I'll grant thee.'

'Sometimes they call him Jack,' she said,

'Sometimes they call him John,

But whan he's in the king's court,

His name is Sweet William.'

'There's not a William in a' my court,

Never a one but three,

And one of them is the Queen's brother;

I wad laugh gif it war he.'

The king called on his merry men,

By thirty and by three;

Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man,

Was the hindmost a' but three.

O he cam cripple, and he cam blind,

Cam twa-fald oer a tree:

'O be he cripple, or be he blind,

This very same man is he.'

'O whether will ye marry the bonny may,

Or hang on the gallows-tree?'

'O I will rather marry the bonny may,

Afore that I do die.'

But he took out a purse of gold,

Weel locked in a glove:

'O tak ye that, my bonny may,

And seek anither love.'

'O I will hae none o your gold,' she says,

'Nor as little ony of your fee,

But I will hae your ain body,

The king has granted me.'

O he took out a purse of gold,

A purse of gold and store;

'O tak ye that, fair may,' he said,

'Frae me ye'll neer get mair.'

'O haud your tongue, young man,' she says,

'And I pray you let me be;

For I will hae your ain body,

The king has granted me.'

He mounted her on a bonny bay horse,

Himsel on the silver grey;

He drew his bonnet out oer his een,

He whipt and rade away.

O whan they cam to yon nettle bush,

The nettles they war spread:

'O an my mither war but here,' she says,

'These nettles she wad sued.'

'O an I had drank the wan water

Whan I did drink the wine,

That eer a shepherd's dochter

Should hae been a love o mine!'

'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,

And may be I am nane;

But you might hae ridden on your ways,

And hae let me alane.'

O whan they cam unto yon mill,

She heard the mill clap:

. . . . . . .

'Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill,

Weel may thou, I say,

For mony a time thou's filled my pock

Wi baith oat-meal and grey.'

'O an I had drank the wan water

Whan I did drink the wine,

That eer a shepherd's dochter

Should hae been a love o mine!'

'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,

And may be I am nane;

But you might hae ridden on your ways,

And hae let me alane.

'But yet I think a fitter match

Could scarcely gang thegither

Than the King of France's auld dochter

And the Queen of Scotland's brither.'

Kinloch's MSS, VII, 69; apparently from the recitation of

Mrs Charles of Torry, Aberdeen, born in Mearnshire.

There was a shepherd's dochter

Kept sheep on yonder hill;

Bye cam a knicht frae the High College,

And he wad hae his will.

Whan he had got his wills o her,

His will as he has taen:

'Wad ye be sae gude and kind

As tell to me your name?'

'Some ca's me Jock, some ca's me John,

Some disna ken my name,

But whan I'm into the king's court,

Mitchcock is my name.'

'Mitchcock! hey!' the lady did say,

And spelt it oure again;

'If that 's your name in the Latin tongue,

Earl Richard is your name!'

O jumpt he upon his horse,

And said he wad go ride;

Kilted she her green claithing,

And said she wad na bide.

The knicht rade on, the lady ran,

A live-lang simmer's day,

Till they cam to a wan water

Was calld the river Tay.

'Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may,

Or do ye chuse to ride?'

'No, thank ye, sir,' the lady said,

'I rather chuse to wade;'

And afore that he was mid-water,

She was at the ither side.

'Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may,

My heart will brak in three:'

'And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side,

Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.'

'Whare gat ye that gay claithing

This day I see on thee?'

'My mither was a gude milk-nurse,

And a gude nourice was she;

She nursd the Earl of Stockford's daughter,

And gat aw this to me.'

Whan she cam to the king's court,

She rappit wi a ring;

Sae ready as the king himsel

Was to let the lady in!

'There is a knicht into your court

This day has robbed me:'

'O has he taen your gowd,' he says,

'Or has he taen your fee?'

'He has na taen my gowd,' she says,

'Nor yet has he my fee;

But he has taen my maiden-head,

The flowr o my fair bodie.'

Then out bespak the queen hersel,

Wha sat by the king's knee:

There's na a knicht in aw our court

Wad hae dune that to thee,

Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard,

And forbid it it war he!

Wad ye ken your love,

Amang a hunder men?

'I wad,' said the bonnie ladie,

'Amang five hunder and ten.'

The king made aw his merry men pass,

By ane, by twa, and three;

Earl Richard us'd to be the first man,

But he was hinmost man that day.

He cam hauping on ane foot,

And winking with ae ee;

But 'Ha! ha!' said the bonnie ladie,

'That same young man are ye.'

He's taen her up to a hie towr-head

And offerd her hunder punds in a glove:

'Gin ye be a courteous maid,

Ye'll choice anither love.'

'What care I for your hunder pund?

Na mair than ye wad for mine;

What's a hunder pund to me,

To a marriage wi a king!'

Whan the marriage it was oure,

And ilk ane took them horse,

'It never set a beggar's brat

At nae knicht's back to be.'

The ladie met wi a beggar-wife,

And gied her half o crown:

'Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame,

That Earl Richard's your gude-son.'

'O hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,

My heart will brak in three;'

'And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side,

Whan ye wad na let me be.'

Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke,

. . . . . . .

'An my auld mither she was here,

Sae weill as she wad ye pu.

'She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill,

And sup till she war fu,

And lay her head upon her dish-doup,

And sleep like onie sow.'

Whan she cam to Earl Richard's house,

The sheets war holland fine:

'O haud awa thae linen sheets,

And bring to me the linsey clouts

I hae been best used in.'

['Awa, awa wi your siller spoons,

Haud them awa frae me;

It would set me better to feed my flocks

Wi the brose-cap on my knee:

Sae bring to me the gude ram's horn,

The spoons I've been used wi.']

'Hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,

My heart will brak in three;'

'And sae did mine on yon bonnie hill-side,

Whan ye wadna lat me be.'

'I wish I had drank the well-water

Whan first I drank the wine!

Never a shepherd's dochter

Wad hae been a love o mine.

'O I wish I'd drank the well-water

Whan first I drank the beer,

That ever a shepherd's dochter

Shoud hae been my only dear!'

* * * * * * *

'Ye'll turn about, Earl Richard,

And mak some mair o me;

An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow,

I can mak ye laird o three.'

'If ye be the Earl of Stockford's dochter,

As I've taen some thouchts ye be,

Aft hae I waited at your father's yett,

But your face I coud never see.'

Kinloch's MSS, VII, 68; apparently from the recitation

of Jenny Watson of Lanark, aged seventy-three. Only such

portions of this version were preserved as differed

considerably from #C#.

* * * * * * *

And he was never sae discreet

As bid her loup on and ride,

And she was neer sae meanly bred

As for to bid him bide.

And whan she cam to yon water,

It was running like a flude:

'I've learned it in my mither's bouer,

I've learned it for my gude,

That I can soum this wan water

Like a fish in a flude.

'I've learned it in my father's bouer,

I've learned it for my better,

And I will soum this wan water

As tho I was ane otter.'

* * * * * * *

'Gude day, gude day, my liege the king,

Gude day, gude day, to thee;'

'Gude day,' quo he, 'my lady fair,

What want ye wi me?'

* * * * * * *

'Gin he be a single man,

His bodie I'll gie thee;

But gin he be a married man,

I'll hang him on a tree.'

* * * * * * *

He's powd out a hundred punds,

Weel lockit in a glove;

. . . . . . .

'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' she said,

'Nor either o your fee;

But I will hae your ain bodie

The king has granted me.'

'O was ye gentle gotten, maid?

Or was ye gentle born?

Or hae ye onie gerss growing?

Or hae ye onie corn?

'Or hae ye onie lands or rents,

Lying at libertie?

Or hae ye onie education,

To dance alang wi me?'

'I was na gentle gotten, madam,

Nor was I gentle born;

Neither hae I gerss growing,

Nor hae I onie corn.

'I have na onie lands or rents,

Lying at libertie;

Nor hae I onie education,

To dance alang wi thee.'

He lap on ae milk-white steed,

And she lap on anither,

And then the twa rade out the way

Like sister and like brither.

And whan she cam to Tyne's water,

She wililie did say,

Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,

With thee I bid gude-day.

Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,

To you I bid gud-een,

Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock,

Baith at midnicht and at een.

* * * * * * *

Whan they cam to her father's yett,

She tirled on the pin;

And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there,

As they war entering in.

'The meetest marriage,' the belly-blind did cry,

'Atween the ane and the ither,

Atween the Earl of Stockford's dochter

And the Queen o England's brither.'

#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 81,

from Mr Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from

old people. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 459, derived, no

doubt, from Buchan.

Earl Richard, once upon a day,

And all his valiant men so wight,

He did him down to Barnisdale,

Where all the land is fair and light.

He was aware of a damosel--

I wot fast on she did her bound--

With towers of gold upon her head,

As fair a woman as could be found.

He said, Busk on you, fair ladye,

The white flowers and the red;

For I would give my bonnie ship

To get your maidenhead.

'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all this would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me.'

'The miss is not so great, ladye;

Soon mended it might be.

'I have four an twenty mills in Scotland,

Stands on the water of Tay;

You'll have them, and as much flour

As they'll grind in a day.'

'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all that would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me.'

'The miss is not so great, ladye;

Soon mended it will be.

'I have four an twenty milk-white cows,

All calved in a day;

You'll have them, and as much haind grass

As they all on can gae.'

'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all that would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me.'

'The miss is not so great, ladye;

Soon mended it might be.

'I have four an twenty milk-white steeds,

All foaled in one year;

You'll have them, and as much red gold

As all their backs can bear.'

She turned her right and round about,

And she swore by the mold;

'I would not be your love,' said she,

'For that church full of gold.'

He turned him right and round about,

And he swore by the mess;

Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,

And gold ye shall have less.

She turned her right and round about,

And she swore by the moon;

'I would not be your love,' says she,

'For all the gold in Rome.'

He turned him right and round about,

And he swore by the moon;

Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,

And gold ye shall have none.

He caught her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

And there has taken his will of her,

Wholly without her leave.

The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd,

And oh, but she thought shame!

Says, If you are a knight at all,

You surely will tell me your name.

'In some places they call me Jack,

In other some they call me John;

But when into the queen's court,

O then Lithcock it is my name!'

'Lithcock! Lithcock!' the ladye said,

And oft she spelt it ower again;

'Lithcock! it's Latin,' the ladye said,

'Richard's the English of that name.'

The knight he rode, the ladye ran,

A live-long summer's day.

Till they came to the wan water

That all men do call Tay.

He set his horse head to the water,

Just thro it for to ride,

And the ladye was as ready as him

The waters for to wade.

For he had never been as kind-hearted

As to bid the ladye ride,

And she had never been so low-hearted

As for to bid him bide.

But deep into the wan water

There stands a great big stone;

He turned his wight horse head about,

Said, Ladye fair, will ye loup on?

She's taken the wand was in her hand

And struck it on the faem,

And before he got the middle-stream

The ladye was on dry land:

'By help of God and our Lady,

My help lyes not in your hand!

'I learned it from my mother dear,

Few are there that have learned better,

When I come to deep water,

I can swim thro like ony otter.

'I learned it from my mother dear,

I find I learnd it for my weel,

When I come to a deep water,

I can swim thro like ony eel.'

'Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair,

You know not what I see;

There is a ladye in that castle

That will burn you and me.'

'Betide me weel, betide me wae,

That ladye I will see.'

She took a ring from her finger,

And gave it the porter for his fee;

Says, Take you that, my good porter,

And bid the queen speak to me.

And when she came before the queen,

There she fell low down on her knee;

Says, There is a knight into your court

This day has robbed me.

'O has he robbed you of your gold,

Or has he robbed you of your fee?'

'He has not robbed me of my gold,

He has not robbed me of my fee;

He has robbed me of my maidenhead,

The fairest flower of my bodie.'

'There is no knight in all my court,

That thus has robbed thee,

But you'll have the truth of his right hand,

Or else for your sake he'll die:

'Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother,

And, Oh, forbid that it be!'

Then sighing said the ladye fair,

I wot the same man is he.

The queen called on her merry men,

Even fifty men and three;

Earl Richard used to be the first man,

But now the hindmost man was he.

He's taken out one hundred pounds,

And told it in his glove;

Says, Take you that, my ladye fair,

And seek another love.

'Oh, no! oh, no!' the ladye cried,

'That's what shall never be;

I'll have the truth of your right hand,

The queen it gave to me.'

['I wish I'd drunken your water, sister,

When I did drink thus of your ale,

That for a carl's fair daughter

It does me gar dree all this bale!]

'I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,

When I did drink your wine,

That for a carle's fair daughter

It does gar me dree all this pine!'

'May be I am a carle's daughter,

And may be never nane;

When ye met me in the greenwood,

Why did you not let me alane?'

'Will you wear the short clothes,

Or will you wear the side?

Or will you walk to your wedding,

Or will you till it ride?'

'I will not wear the short clothes,

But I will wear the side;

I will not walk to my wedding,

But I to it will ride.'

When he was set upon the horse,

The lady him behin,

Then cauld and eerie were the words

The twa had them between.

She said, Good e'en, ye nettles tall,

Just there where ye grow at the dyke;

If the auld carline my mother were here,

Sae weel's she would your pates pyke!

How she would stap you in her poke--

I wot at that she wadna fail--

And boil ye in her auld brass pan,

And of ye make right good kail!

And she would meal you with millering,

That she gathers at the mill,

And make you thick as ony daigh:

And when the pan was brimful,

Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes,

Syne bid us sup till we were fou,

Lay down her head upon a poke,

Then sleep and snore like ony sow.

'Away, away, you bad woman!

For all your vile words grieveth me;

When you hide so little for yourself,

I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.

'I wish I had drunk your water, sister,

When that I did drink of your wine,

Since for a carle's fair daughter,

It aye gars me dree all this pine.'

'May be I am a carle's daughter,

And may be never nane;

When ye met me in the good greenwood,

Why did you not let me alane?

'Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries,

As ye're growing on yon hill;

If the auld carline and her bags were here,

I wot she would get meat her fill.

'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,

With even four an twenty knots;

And in the morn at breakfast time

I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.

'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,

With even four an twenty strings;

And if you look to my white fingers,

They have as many gay gold rings.'

'Away, away, ye ill woman!

So sore your vile words grieveth me;

When you hide so little for yourself,

I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.

'But if you are a carle's daughter,

As I take you to be,

How did you get the gay cloathing

In greenwood ye had on thee?'

'My mother, she's a poor woman,

She nursed earl's children three,

And I got them from a foster-sister,

For to beguile such sparks as thee.'

'But if you be a carle's daughter,

As I believe you be,

How did you learn the good Latin

In greenwood ye spoke to me?'

'My mother, she's a mean woman,

She nursd earl's children three;

I learnt it from their chaplain,

To beguile such sparks as ye.'

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,

And all men bound for bed,

Then Earl Richard and this ladye

In ae bed they were laid.

He turned his face unto the stock,

And she her's to the stane,

And cauld and dreary was the love

That was these twa between.

Great mirth was in the kitchen,

Likewise intill the ha,

But in his bed lay Earl Richard,

Wiping the tears awa.

He wept till he fell fast asleep,

Then slept till light was come;

Then he did hear the gentlemen

That talked in the room:

Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match,

Betwixt the ane and ither,

The king of Scotland's fair dochter

And the queen of England's brither?

'And is she the king o Scotland's fair dochter?

This day, O weel is me!

For seven times has my steed been saddled,

To come to court with thee;

And with this witty lady fair,

How happy must I be!'

#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 91;

from the recitation of an old person. #b.# Christie's

Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 184.

Earl Lithgow he's a hunting gane,

Upon a summer's day,

And he's fa'en in with a weel-far'd maid,

Was gathering at the slaes.

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

He led her to the foot of a tree,

At her he spierd nae leave.

The lassie being well learned,

She turned her right around;

Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir,

As tell to me your name?

'Whiles they call me Jack,' he says,

'And whiles they call me John;

But when I'm in the queen's high court,

Earl Litchcock is my name.'

The lassie being well learned,

She spelld it ower again;

Says, Litchcock is a Latin word,

But Lithgow is your name.

The lassie being well learned,

She spelld it ower again;

Says, Lithgow is a gentle word,

But Richard is your name.

She has kilted her green claithing

A little abeen her knee;

The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran,

Till at the water o Dee.

When they were at the water o Dee,

And at the narrow side,

He turned about his high horse head,

Says, Lassie, will ye ride?

'I learned it in my mother's bower,

I wish I had learned it better,

When I came to this wan water,

To swim like ony otter.

'I learned it in my mother's bower,

I wish I had learned it weel,

That when I came to a wan water,

To swim like ony eel.'

She has kilted her green claithing

A little abeen her knee;

The gentleman rode, the lassie swam,

Thro the water o Dee:

Before he was at the middle o the water,

At the other side was she.

She sat there and drest hersell,

And sat upon a stone;

There she sat to rest hersell,

And see how he'd come on.

'How mony miles hae ye to ride?

How mony hae I to gang?'

'I've thirty miles to ride,' he says,

'And ye've as mony to gang.'

'If ye've thirty miles to ride,' she says,

'And I've as mony to gae,

Ye'll get leave to gang yoursell;

It will never be gane by me.'

She's gane to the queen's high court,

And knocked at the pin;

Who was sae ready as the proud porter,

To let this lady in!

She's put her hand in her pocket,

And gien him guineas three:

'Ye will gang to the queen hersell,

And tell her this frae me.

'There is a lady at your yetts

Can neither card nor spin;

But she can sit in a lady's bower,

And lay gold on a seam.'

He's gane ben thro ae lang room,

And he's gane ben thro twa,

Till he came to a lang, lang trance,

And then came to the ha.

When he came before the queen,

Sat low down on his knee:

'Win up, win up, my proud porter,

What makes this courtesie?'

'There is a lady at your yetts

Can neither card nor spin;

But she can sit in a lady's bower,

And lay gold on a seam.'

'If there is a lady at my yetts

That cannot card nor spin,

Ye'll open my yetts baith wide and braid,

And let this lady in.'

Now she has gane ben thro ae room,

And she's gane ben thro twa,

And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance,

Till she came to the ha.

When she came before the queen,

Sat low down on her knee:

'Win up, win up, my fair woman,

What makes such courtesie?'

'My errand it's to thee, O queen,

My errand it's to thee;

There is a man within your courts

This day has robbed me.'

'O has he taen your purse, your purse,

Or taen your penny-fee?

Or has he taen your maidenhead,

The flower of your bodie?'

'He hasna taen my purse, my purse,

Nor yet my penny-fee,

But he has taen my maidenhead,

The flower of my bodi'

'It is if he be a batchelor,

Your husband he shall be;

But if he be a married man,

High hanged he shall be.

'Except it be my brother, Litchcock,

I hinna will it be he;'

Sighd and said that gay lady,

That very man is he.

She's calld on her merry men a',

By ane, by twa, by three;

Earl Litchcock used to be the first,

But the hindmost man was he.

He came cripple on the back,

Stane blind upon an ee;

And sighd and said Earl Richard,

I doubt this calls for me.

He's laid down a brand, a brand,

And next laid down a ring;

It's thrice she minted to the brand,

But she's taen up the ring:

There's not a knight in a' the court,

But calld her a wise woman.

He's taen out a purse of gold,

And tauld it on a stane;

Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,

And ye'll frae me be gane.

'I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold,

That ye tell on a stane;

But I will hae yoursell,' she says,

'Another I'll hae nane.'

He has taen out another purse,

And tauld it in a glove;

Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,

And choice another love.

'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,

That ye tell in a glove;

But I will hae yoursell,' she says,

'I'll hae nae ither love.'

But he's taen out another purse,

And tauld it on his knee;

Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman,

Ye'll get nae mair frae me.

'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,

That ye tell on your knee;

But I will hae yoursell,' she says,

'The queen has granted it me.'

'O will ye hae the short claithing,

Or will ye hae the side?

Or will ye gang to your wedding,

Or will ye to it ride?'

'I winna hae the short claithing,

But I will hae the side;

I winna gang to my wedding,

But to it I will ride.'

The first town that they came till

They made the mass be sung,

And the next town that they came till

They made the bells be rung.

And the next town that they came till

He bought her gay claithing,

And the next town that they came till

They held a fair wedding.

When they came to Mary-kirk,

The nettles grew on the dyke:

'If my auld mither, the carlin, were here,

Sae well's she would you pyke.

'Sae well's she would you pyke' she says,

'She woud you pyke and pou,

And wi the dust lyes in the mill

Sae woud she mingle you.

'She'd take a speen intill her hand,

And sup ere she be fou,

Syne lay her head upon a sod,

And snore like ony sow.'

When she came to yon mill-dams,

Says, Weel may ye clap;

I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you

Wanting mony a lick.

He's drawn his hat out ower his face,

Muckle shame thought he;

She's driven her cap out ower her locks,

And a light laugh gae she.

When they were wedded, and well bedded,

And hame at dinner set,

Then out it spake our bride hersell,

And she spake never blate.

Put far awa your china plates,

Put them far awa frae me,

And bring to me my humble gockies,

That I was best used wi.

Put far awa your siller speens,

Had them far awa frae me,

And bring to me my horn cutties,

That I was best used wi.

When they were dined and well served,

And to their dancing set,

Out it spake our bride again,

For she spake never blate.

If the auld carlin, my mither, were here,

As I trust she will be,

She'll fear the dancing frae us a',

And gar her meal-bags flee.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men bound for rest,

Earl Richard and the beggar's daughter

In ae chamber were placed.

'Had far awa your fine claithing,

Had them far awa frae me,

And bring to me my fleachy clouts,

That I was best used wi.

'Had far awa your holland sheets,

Had them far awa frae me,

And bring to me my canvas clouts,

That I was best used wi.

'Lay a pock o meal beneath my head,

Another aneath my feet,

A pock o seeds beneath my knees,

And soundly will I sleep.'

'Had far awa, ye carlin's get,

Had far awa frae me;

It disna set a carlin's get

My bed-fellow to be.'

'It's may be I'm a carlin's get,

And may be I am nane;

But when ye got me in good greenwood,

How letna you me alane?'

'It is if you be a carlin's get,

As I trust well ye be,

Where got ye all the gay claithing

You brought to greenwood with thee?'

'My mother was an auld nourice,

She nursed bairns three;

And whiles she got, and whiles she staw,

And she kept them a' for me;

And I put them on in good greenwood,

To beguile fause squires like thee.'

It's out then spake the Billy-Blin,

Says, I speak nane out of time;

If ye make her lady o nine cities,

She'll make you lord o ten.

Out it spake the Billy-Blin,

Says, The one may serve the other;

The King of Gosford's ae daughter,

And the Queen of Scotland's brother.

'Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin,

An ill death may ye die!

My bed-fellow he'd been for seven years

Or he'd kend sae muckle frae me.'

'Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin,

And well may ye aye be!

In my stable is the ninth horse I've killd,

Seeking this fair ladie:

Now we're married, and now we're bedded,

And in each other's arms shall lie.'

Gibb MS., No 1. From recitation; traced to Mrs E.

Lindsay, about 1800.

Jo Janet has to the greenwood gane,

Wi a' her maidens free,

. . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

'Some ca me Jack, some ca me John,

Some ca me Jing-ga-lee,

But when I am in the queen's court

Earl Hitchcock they ca me.'

'Hitchcock, Hitchcock,' Jo Janet she said,

An spelled it ower agane,

'Hitchcock it's a Latin word;

Earl Richard is your name.'

But when he saw she was book-learned,

Fast to his horse hied he;

But she kilted up her gay claithing,

An fast, fast followed she.

Aye he rade, an aye she ran,

The live-lang simmer's day,

Till they came to the wan water,

An a' men call it Tay.

She has tane the narrow fuird,

An he has tane the wide,

An ere he was in the middle-water,

Jo Janet was at the ither side.

. . . . . . .

As swift as eel or otter.

An when she cam to the queen's court

She tirled at the pin,

An wha sae ready as the queen hersel

To let Jo Janet in!

. . . . . . .

'There is a knicht into your court

This day has robbed me.'

'Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may,

Or robbed you o your fee?

Or robbed you o your maidenhead,

The flower o your bodie?'

'He has nae robbed me o my gold,' she said,

'Nor o my weel won fee,

But he has robbed me o my maidenhead,

The flower o my bodie.'

'It's if he be a married knight,

It's hanged he shall be;

But if he be a single knight,

It's married ye sall be.

'There's but three knichts into my court

This day hae been frae me,

An ane is Earl Richard, my brither,

An I hope it is na he:'

Then sichin said Jo Janet,

The very same man is he.

The queen has called on her merry men

By thirty and by three;

He wont to be the foremost man,

But hinmost in cam he.

'Is this your tricks abroad, Richard,

Is this your tricks abroad,

Wheneer ye meet a bonny may

To lay her on the road?'

* * * * * * *

But he took out a purse o gold,

. . . . . . .

Says, Tak you that, my bonny may,

An seek nae mair o me.

'I winna hae your gold,' she said,

'I winna hae your fee;

I'll hae the troth o your right hand

The queen has promised me.'

* * * * * * *

As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town

Sae fair's the nettles grew;

Quoth she, If my auld mither were here,

Sae finely's she wad you pu.

She wad you nip, she wad you clip,

Sae finely's she wad you pu,

An pit you on in a wee, wee pat,

An sup till she were fu,

Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail,

An sleep like ony soo.

He drew his hat down ower his broos,

An a doon look gae he,

But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,

An nae ways dung was she.

'It's if ye be a beggar's brat,

As I dout na but ye be,

It's where gat ye the gay claithing

That hings down to your knee?'

'My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall's dother,

An a fine lady is she,

An aye when she gets new claithing

She casts the auld to me:'

An sichin said Earl Richard,

My ain true-love is she!

But if you be a beggar's brat,

As I doutna but ye be,

Where got ye the Latin words

Ye said in greenwood to me?

'My mither was a bad woman,

She served sic men as thee,

An a' the gear at ever she got

She waired it a' on me,

An learned me weel the Latin tongue,

To beguile sic sparks as thee.'

'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,

An ill death mat ye dee!

. . . . . . .

When they were a' at supper set,

An siller spoons gaen roun,

It's, 'Haud awa yer siller spoons,

Haud them far awa frae me,

An bring to me a guid ramshorn,

The thing I'm best used wi.'

An when they were at supper set,

An the ale-caup gaen about,

She took it in her arms twa,

An sae clean's she lickit it oot.

He drew his hat doun ower his broos,

An a doun look gae he,

But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,

An nae ways dung was she.

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,

An a' men boun to bed,

Earl Richard an Jo Janet

In ae bed they were laid.

He turned his face unto the stock,

An sair, sair did he weep;

She turned her face unto the wa,

An sound she fell asleep.

. . . . . . .

The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.

Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match

Atween the tane and the tither,

The Earl Marshall['s] ae dother

An the Queen o Scotland's brither?

'Wae be to you for an ill woman,

An ill death mat ye dee!

For mony's the mare and mare's foal

I've bursten seekin thee.'

... a cup o wine,

Quoth, Here's to thee and me!

If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh,

I'll mak ye lord o three.

Kinloch's MSS, V, 20, in the handwriting of Mr James

Beattie, 1820, and from the recitation of one of the Miss

Beatties, his aunts, native in The Mearns: also Kinloch

MS., VII, 61, and Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 25.

There was a shepherd's daughter,

Kept sheep on yonder hill;

There came a knight o courage bright,

And he wad have his will. Diddle, &c.

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,

Gien her a gown o green;

'O take you that, fair may,' he says,

'There's nae mair o me to be seen.'

'Since ye have taen your wills o me,

Your wills o me you've taen,

Since ye have taen your wills o me,

Pray tell to me your name.'

'O some they call me Jack, lady,

And others call me John;

But when I'm in the king's court,

Sweet William is my name.'

She's kilted up her green clothing

A little below her knee,

And she is to the king's court,

As fast as she could gae.

And when she came unto the king,

She knelt low on her knee:

'There is a man into your court

This day has robbed me.'

'Has he robbd you of your gold,' he says,

'Or of your white monie?

Or robbd you of the flowery branch,

The flower of your bodie?'

'He has not robbd me of my gold,' she says,

'Nor of my white monie,

But he's robbd me of the flowery branch,

The flower of my bodie.'

'O if he be a bond-man,

High hanged shall he be;

But if he be a free man,

He'se well provide for thee.'

The king's called on his nobles all,

By thirty and by three;

Sweet William should have been the foremost man,

But the hindmost man was he.

'Do you not mind yon shepherd's daughter,

You met on yonder hill?

When a' her flocks were feeding round,

Of her you took your will.'

And he's taen out a purse o gold,

And tied up in a glove;

'Take you that, fair may,' he says,

'And choice for you a love.'

O he's taen out three hundred pounds,

Tied up in a purse;

'See, take you that, fair may,' he says,

'And that will pay the nurse.'

'I'll neither have your gold,' she says,

'Nor yet your white monie,

But I will have the king's grant,

That he has granted me.'

Then he's taen her on a milk-white steed,

Himsell upon another,

And to his castle they have rode,

Like sister and like brother.

O ilka nettle that they came to,

'O well mote you grow!

For mony a day's my minny and me

Pilkit at your pow.'

O ilka mill that they came to,

'O well mote you clack!

For monie a day's my minnie and me

Buckled up our lap.'

* * * * * * *

'You're the king of England's ae brother,

I trust well that you be;

I'm the Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,

And he has nae mair but me.'

O saw you eer such a near marriage,

Between the one and the other,

The Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,

And the King of England's brother!

Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, from his own

recollection; Aberdeenshire.

There was a shepherd's daughter,

Kept flocks on yonder hill,

And by there cam a courteous knight,

Wud fain and hae his will.

* * * * * * *

'Some do ca me Jock,' he said,

'And some do ca me John,

But when I do ride i the king's high court,

Gulelmus is my name.'

* * * * * * *

And when she came to the kinges court

She tirled at the pin,

And wha was there but the king himsel,

To lat this fair maid in!

'Now Christ you save, my lord,' she said,

'Now Christ you save and see;

There is a knicht into your court

This day has robbed me.

'He's na robbed me o my silken purse,

Nor o my white money,

But he's robbed me o my maidenheid,

The flower o my bodie.'

'O gin he be a single man,

Weel married sall ye be,

But an he be a married man,

He's hang upon a tree.'

Then he called up his merry men a',

By one, by two, and by three,

And William should a been the first,

But the hindmost man was he.

And he cam hirplin on a stick,

And blin upon an ee,

But sighand said that gay ladie,

That same man robbed me.

* * * * * * *

'Gin I had drunk the wan water,

When I did drink the wine,

A cairdman's daughter

Should never be a true-love o mine.'

'Maybe I'm a cairdman's daughter,

And maybe I am nane;

But when ye did come to good green wood,

Ye sud hae latten me alane.'

She set upon a milk-white steed,

An himsel on a dapple grey,

An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan

'S ye cud ride in a lang simmer's day.

Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 7. Taken

down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire,

February 12, 1829.

* * * * * * *

'Some ca'ss me James, some ca'as me John,

I carena what they ca me,

But when I [am] at hame in my ain country,

It's Lispcock that they ca me.'

The lassie being well beuk-learned,

She spelled it ower again;

Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk

Spells Erl Richard in plain.

. . . . . . .

The lassie kilted up her green claithing,

And fast, fast followed on.

Till they cam till a wide water,

. . . . . . .

He's turned his hie horse head about,

Says, Lassie will ye ride?

'I learned it in my mother's bower,

I wish I'd learned it better,

Whanever I cam to any wide water,

To soum like ony otter.'

The laird he chused the ford to ride,

The ladie the pot to swim,

And or the laird was half water,

The ladie was on dry lan.

O he rade on to yon hie castell,

He rade it richt and roun about;

The laird gaed in at ae back-door,

But the ladie beet to knock.

O out it cam the proud porter,

Wi his hat into his han,

. . . . . . .

She's pitten her hand in her pocket,

Pulld out guineas three,

And that she's given to the proud porter,

To cause her to get entrance there.

The proud porter ran up the stair,

O fifteen steps he made but three:

'The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts

That ever my een did see.'

. . . . . . .

'Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter,

Cause her to cum up to me.'

When she gaed in before the queen,

She fell low down on her knee:

'There is a man into your courts

This day has robbed me.'

'Has he robbed you o your fine clothing,

Or o your white monie?

Or taen frae you your maidenhead,

The flower o your bodie?'

'He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing,

Nor o my white monie,

But he's taen frae me my maidenhead,

The flower o my bodie.'

'O gin he be a married man,

High hanged sall he be;

And gin he be a batchelere,

Well wedded shall ye be.'

O she has called in her merry young men,

By thirties and by threes;

Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man,

But the hindmost man was he.

He cam limpin on a staff,

And blinkin on an ee,

And sichand says that gay ladie,

That samen man is he.

* * * * * * *

Motherwell's MS., p. 226. From the recitation of Widow

McCormick, Westbrae, Paisley, 1825; learned of an old

woman in Dumbarton, thirty or forty years before.

There was a shepherd's daughter,

Kept sheep on yonder hill;

O by comes a courtier,

And fain wud hae his will.

We'll go no more a roving,

A roving in the night,

We'll go no more a roving,

Let the moon shine neer so bright.

O we'll go [no] more a roving.

He took her by the middle so small,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

He bended her body unto the ground,

And of her parents he askd no leave.

'Now since you've got your will o me.

And brought my fair bodie to shame,

All the request I ask of you is,

Pray tell me what's your name.'

'O some do call me Jack,' he says,

'And some do call me John,

But when I am in the king's court,

My name is Sweet William.'

She took her petticoats by the band,

Her mantle oer her arm,

And she's awa to the king's court,

As fast as she could run.

When she came to the king's court,

She tinkled at the ring;

Who was so ready as the king himsel

To let this fair maid in!

And when she came before the king,

She kneeled low by his knee;

'What's this? what's this, fair maid,' he says,

'What's this you ask of me?'

. . . . . . .

'There is a knight into your court

This day has robbed me.'

'If he robbed you of your gold,' he said,

'It's hanged he must be;

If he's robbed you of your maidenhead,

His body I grant to thee.'

'He's not robbed me of my gold,' she said,

'Nor of my white money,

But he's robbed me of my maidenhead,

The flower of my bodie.'

He's called down his merry men all,

By one, by two, by three;

John used to be the foremost man,

But the hindmost man was he.

He took a long purse of gold

And wrapped it in a glove:

'Here's to thee, my dearest dear,

Go seek some other love.'

'I'll have none of your gold,' she says,

'Nor any of your white money,

But I'll just have your own bodie

The king has granted to me.'

'I wish I was drinking the well-water

When I drank of the ale,

Before a shepherd's daughter

Would tell me such a tale.'

He got her on a milk-white steed,

Himself upon a grey,

Then on a day ...

This couple rode away.

It's when they were coming by the nettle-bush,

She said, So well may you grow!

For many a day my mammy and me

Hae pickled at your pow.

When they cam by the mill-door, she said,

So well may you clatter!

For many a day my mammy and me

Pickled at your happer.

When they came to the king's court,

They reckoned up their kin;

She was a king's one dochter,

And he but a blacksmith's son.

Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 1, recited by Miss Brown, of

Glasgow, after a blind aunt.

* * * * * * *

'I learned it in my father's bower,

And I learned it for the better,

That every water I coudna wade,

I swam it like an otter.

With my low silver ee.

'I learned it in my father's bower,

And I learned it for my weel,

That every water I coudna wade,

I swam it like an eel.'

* * * * * * *

And he cam hirpling on a stick,

And leaning on a tree:

'Be he cripple, or be he blind,

The same man is he.'

* * * * *

#A. a.#

The beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia. A new pastorell

Song of a courteous young Knight and a supposed

Shepheard's Daughter. To a gallant tune, called the

Shepheards Delight... London, Printed for William

Gilbertson. _Gilbertson published 1640-63: Chappell.

Dated 1655 in the Museum Catalogue._

4, 6. _Burden_ Trang dang.

7^3. abeut.

10^1. cour.

12^4. fingets.

18^4. faults.

24^2. rights.

27^1. _Perhaps_ to linked.

_Some trivial errors of the press have been corrected._

#b.#

The Beautiful Shepherdess of Arcadia: A new Pastoral Song

of a courteous young Knight and a supposed Shepherd's

Daughter of Arcadia, in Peloponnesus. To the Tune of The

Shepherd's Daughter, &c. London: Printed for A. M., W.

O., and T. Thackeray, at the sign of the Angel in Duck

[Lane]. _Dated 1680? in the Catalogue._

3^3. yong _wanting_.

4^1. about the middle.

4^2. down _wanting_.

4^3. had got.

5^1. kind sir.

5^2. thus _wanting_.

6^1. men _wanting_.

6^3. fair court.

7^1. into the.

7^2. he did.

7^3. her girdle.

9^3. was never.

10^1. But _wanting_.

11^1. save you.

11^3. got _wanting_.

12^1. of, sweet-heart.

12^4. finger.

13^2. or of.

13^4. most of.

15^3. was _wanting_.

16^2. within.

18^3. to thee.

18^4. fault.

19. not thy.

22. _wanting, in my transcript._

24^2. rites was.

25^2. will be.

25^4. make thee.

26^3. should a.

27^1. being linked so.

27^2. joyned.

#B.#

23^3. tak he.

#C.#

_#C# _and_ #D# _were derived from the recitation of Jenny

Watson of Lanark and Mrs Charles of Torry, but which

from which we are not distinctly told. An incidental

expression of Kinloch's, MSS, VII, 59, may warrant the

assigning of_ #C# _to Mrs Charles._ #C# _is written on

the right hand of the MS. and_ #D# _on the left, except

that the last two stanzas of_ #D# _are written on the

right, and a few readings of_ #D# _are written above

those of_ #C#. (_The ink of_ #D# _is blacker._)_

6. _omitted by_ Kinloch _in printing._

7^4. wade _altered to_ wyde, _according to the

pronunciation._

8^4, 21^4. na _is wanting_.

14^1. Kinloch _prints_ your fause love: _in MS._ [fause].

25. _inserted at p. 23 of_ Kinloch's _interleaved copy of

his_ Ancient Scottish Ballads.

#D#

1^3. frae the king's court.

3^4. Earl Richard is my name.

11^1. anie.

14^4. _Altered to_ At midday and.

16^3. cried the.

17^1. He powd out a hundred punds.

17^2. Weel lockit in a glove.

27^1. Hoch! had I drank the wan water.

27^3. That... a mill-capon.

#E. a.#

6^4. for me: _see_ 4^4, 8^4.

16^4. Oh.

34. _wanting, supplied from the MS._

44^{3, 4}, 50^{3, 4}. _unless_ hide _is for_ heed, _read_

heed, _as in_ #b#.

#b.#

1^1. on a.

13^3. ye shall be.

18^4. does.

22^1. wand she had in.

22^4. on the.

22^6. help does not lye.

23^1. omits it.

23^2. is there that has.

23^3. to a.

24^3. came.

25^6. will I.

26^2. _omits_ it.

30^4. samen.

31^1. men all.

31^4. _omits_ man.

34. _omitted in_ #a#.

43^2. we be.

44^{3, 4}.

When you heed so little of yourself,

I'm sure ye'll heed far less nor me.

47^{3, 4}.

If the auld carle and his bags were here,

I wot he would get meat his fill.

48^1, 49^1. last night.

50.

Away, away, you evil woman,

How sore your vile words grieve me!

When you heed so little on yourself,

I know you will heed less on me.

52^4. as ye.

53^1. you are.

55^1. was rung.

55^3. the ladye.

55^4. In one.

56^1. face to.

56^4. thir twa.

57^1. Great was the mirth.

57^2. into.

57^4. And wiping.

60^4. at thee.

_The variations in #b# are probably Motherwell's

improvements. He does not adopt all of them in printing,

but makes still other slight changes._

#F. b.#

"An epitome (_eleven eight-line stanzas_) of Buchan's

version, with some slight alterations from the way the

editor has heard the ballad sung."

15^1. The lady to the queen's court gaed.

15^3. And ready was.

16^2. And gae him gowd sae free.

19^2. He lout doun.

23^2. She lout doun.

30^2. And blind.

33^1, 37^1. I will not hae your purse o gowd.

33^4. And other.

39^2. Nor will I hae.

41^3. And when they came to St. Mary's kirk.

62^3. My husband.

#I.#

1^2. _Var._ Kept hogs.

8^3. sigh and.

#J.#

3^3. in, _perhaps, for_ on.

3, 4; 8, 9; 11, 12. _Written without division in the MS._

17^3. sich &.

#K.#

4^1. Oh.

17^4. Hae _added later_; pickled _altered from_ pircled.

[172] And Douce, says Mr Chappell. A Tewkesbury copy, not dated, is

mentioned by Halliwell, Notes on Fugitive Tracts, etc., Percy Society,

vol. xxix, p. 16, No 9.

[173]

There was a shepherd's daughter

Came triping on the way,

And there she met a courteous knight,

Which caused her to stay.

Sing trang dil do lee

[174]

He called down his merry men all,

By one, by two, by three;

William would fain have been the first,

But now the last is he.