afternoon), a death-bell is heard. Dorothy turns pale. For whom are they
tolling? Surely it is for Herman. They tell her that Herman is lying in
his room with a bad headache, and that the bell is ringing for a child.
But she guesses the truth, sinks down and dies, #a#. She wears two
knives in her hair, and thrusts one of them into her heart, #b#. The two
are buried in one grave. In Bohemian #B# the bell sounds for the first
time as the first course is brought on, and a second time when the
second course comes. The bride is told in each case that the knell is
for a child. Upon the third sounding, when the third course is brought
in, they tell her that it is for Herman. She seizes two knives and runs
to the graveyard: with one she digs herself a grave, and with the other
stabs herself. In the Wendish fragment #B#, at the first and second
course (there is no bell) the bride asks where the bridegroom is, and at
the third repeats the question with tears. She is told that he is
ranging the woods, killing game for his wedding. In Bohemian #C# the
bell tolls while they are getting the table ready. The bride asks if it
is for Herman, and is told that it is for a child. When they sit down to
table, the bells toll again. For whom should this be? For whom but
Herman? She springs out of the window, and the catastrophe is the same
as in Bohemian #B#. In #D# the bride hears the bell as the train is
approaching the house, and they say it is for a child. On entering the
court she asks where Herman is. He is in the cellar drawing wine for his
guests. She asks again for Herman as the company sits down to table, and
the answer is, In the chamber, lying in a coffin. She springs from the
table and rushes to the chamber, seizing two golden knives, one of which
she plunges into her heart. In Bohemian #E#, when the bride arrives at
John the bridegroom's house, and asks where he is, they tell her she had
better go to bed till midnight. The moment she touches John she springs
out of bed, and cries, Dear people, why have ye laid a living woman with
a dead man? They stand, saying, What shall we give her, a white cap or a
green chaplet? "I have not deserved the white (widow's) cap," she says;
"I have deserved a green chaplet." In Wendish #A#, when the bell first
knolls, the bride asks, Where is the bridegroom? and they answer, In the
new chamber, putting on his fine clothes. A second toll evokes a second
inquiry; and they say he is in the new room, putting on his sword. The
third time they conceal nothing: He fell off his horse and broke his
neck. "Then tear off my fine clothes and dress me in white, that I may
mourn a year and a day, and go to church in a green chaplet, and never
forget him that loved me!" It will be remembered that the bride takes
her own life in Norwegian #A#, #C#, #D#, and in Swedish #E#, as she does
in Bohemian #A b#, #B#, #C#, #D#.
* * * * *
#B# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 305,
No 48; by Doenniges, p. 25.
'Der Ritter von Staufenberg' is translated by Jamieson, from the
"Romanzen" in the Wunderhorn, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities,
p. 257. Danish #A# by Prior, II, 301; #B# by Jamieson, Popular Ballads,
I, 219, and by Prior, II, 306, Buchanan, p. 52. 'The Erl-King's
Daughter,' "Danish," in Lewis's Tales of Wonder, I, 53, No 10, is
rendered from Herder. Swedish #A# by Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 84;
#B# by Keightley, p. 82, and by William and Mary Howitt, Literature and
Romance of Northern Europe, I, 269. There is a version from Swedish by
J. H. Dixon, in Notes and Queries, 4th Series, I, 168. Breton #D# by
Keightley, as above, p. 433, and by Tom Taylor, Ballads and Songs of
Brittany, 'Lord Nann and the Fairy,' p. 9. Bohemian #A b# by Bowring,
Cheskian Anthology, p. 69.
#A#
From a transcript from William Tytler's Brown MS.
1
Clark Colven and his gay ladie,
As they walked to yon garden green,
A belt about her middle gimp,
Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:
2
'O hearken weel now, my good lord,
O hearken weel to what I say;
When ye gang to the wall o Stream,
O gang nae neer the well-fared may.'
3
'O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
Tak nae sic care o me;
For I nae saw a fair woman
I like so well as thee.'
4
He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry, merry rade he on,
Till he came to the wall o Stream,
And there he saw the mermaiden.
5
'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay's ye wash your sark o silk:'
'It's a' for you, ye gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.'
6
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
He's taen her by the sleeve sae green,
And he's forgotten his gay ladie,
And away with the fair maiden.
* * * * * * *
7
'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,
'And aye sae sair's I mean my head!'
And merrily leugh the mermaiden,
'O win on till you be dead.
8
'But out ye tak your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare;
Row that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye'll never feel nae mair.'
9
Out he has taen his little pen-knife,
And frae her sark he's shorn a gare,
Rowed that about his lovely head,
But the pain increased mair and mair.
10
'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,
'An aye sae sair's I mean my head!'
And merrily laughd the mermaiden,
'It will ay be war till ye be dead.'
11
Then out he drew his trusty blade,
And thought wi it to be her dead,
But she's become a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed.
12
He's mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And dowy, dowy rade he home,
And heavily, heavily lighted down
When to his ladie's bower-door he came.
13
'Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,
And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,
'T will never be bent by me again.'
14
His mither she has made his bed,
His gentle ladie laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
'T was never bent by him again.
B
Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302; ed.
1776, I, 161.
1
Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame
Were walking in the garden green;
The belt around her stately waist
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.
2
'O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life.'
3
'Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
Did I neer see a fair woman,
But I wad sin with her body?'
4
He's taen leave o his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he's rode by the wells of Slane,
Where washing was a bonny maid.
5
'Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk;'
'And weel fa you, fair gentleman,
Your body whiter than the milk.'
* * * * * * *
6
Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
'O my head it pains me sair;'
'Then take, then take,' the maiden said,
'And frae my sark you'll cut a gare.'
7
Then she's gied him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark he cut a share;
She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.
8
Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
'O sairer, sairer akes my head;'
'And sairer, sairer ever will,'
The maiden crys, 'till you be dead.'
9
Out then he drew his shining blade,
Thinking to stick her where she stood,
But she was vanishd to a fish,
And swam far off, a fair mermaid.
10
'O mother, mother, braid my hair;
My lusty lady, make my bed;
O brother, take my sword and spear,
For I have seen the false mermaid.'
C
Notes and Queries, 4th Series, VIII, 510, from the
recitation of a lady in Forfarshire.
1
Clerk Colin and his mother dear
Were in the garden green;
The band that was about her neck
Cost Colin pounds fifteen;
The belt about her middle sae sma
Cost twice as much again.
2
'Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin,
Forbidden gin ye wad be,
And gang nae mair to Clyde's water,
To court yon gay ladie.'
3
'Forbid me frae your ha, mother,
Forbid me frae your bour,
But forbid me not frae yon ladie;
She's fair as ony flour.
4
'Forbidden I winna be, mother,
Forbidden I winna be,
For I maun gang to Clyde's water,
To court yon gay ladie.'
5
An he is on his saddle set,
As fast as he could win,
An he is on to Clyde's water,
By the lee licht o the moon.
6
An when he cam to the Clyde's water
He lichted lowly down,
An there he saw the mermaiden,
Washin silk upon a stane.
7
'Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin,
Come down an [fish] wi me;
I'll row ye in my arms twa,
An a foot I sanna jee.'
* * * * * * *
8
'O mother, mother, mak my bed,
And, sister, lay me doun,
An brother, tak my bow an shoot,
For my shooting is done.'
9
He wasna weel laid in his bed,
Nor yet weel fa'en asleep,
When up an started the mermaiden,
Just at Clerk Colin's feet.
10
'Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,
Will ye lie there an die?
Or will ye gang to Clyde's water,
To fish in flood wi me?'
11
'I will lie here an die,' he said,
'I will lie here an die;
In spite o a' the deils in hell
I will lie here an die.'
* * * * *
#A.#
7^3. _~laugh~; but we have ~laughd~ in 10^3._
9^3. _~Rowed~ seems to be written ~Round~, possibly
~Rowad~._
14^3. brother.
#B.#
5^4. _The edition of 1776 has ~body's~._
#C.#
7. When they part he returns home, and on the way his head
becomes "wondrous sair:" _seemingly a comment of the
reciter_.
_The Abbotsford copy in "~Scottish Songs~," fol. 3, has
these readings, not found in Lewis, the Brown MS., or
Herd._
3^2.
And dinna deave me wi your din: _Lewis_,
And haud, my Lady gay, your din.
6^3. He's laid her on the flowery green.
[345] "From a MS. in my grandfather's writing, with the following note:
Copied from an old MS. in the possession of Alexander Fraser Tytler."
Note of Miss Mary Fraser Tytler. The first stanza agrees with that which
is cited from the original by Dr Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations,
VII, 177, and the number of stanzas is the same.
Colvill, which has become familiar from Herd's copy, is the correct
form, and Colven, Colvin, a vulgarized one, which in #C# lapses into
Colin.
[346] Still, though these _particular verses_ appear to have come from
'The Drowned Lovers,' they may represent other original ones which were
to the same effect. See, further on, the beginning of some Färöe
versions.
[347] Hoc equidem a viris omni exceptione majoribus quotidie scimus
probatum, quod quosdam hujusmodi larvarum quas fadas nominant amatores
audivimus, et cum ad aliarum foeminarum matrimonia se transtulerunt,
ante mortuos quam cum superinductis carnali se copula immiscuerunt. Des
Gervasius von Tilbury Otia Imperialia (of about 1211), Liebrecht, p. 41.
[348] Der Ritter von Stauffenberg, from a MS. of perhaps 1437, C. M.
Engelhardt, Strassburg, 1823. Edited by Oskar Jänicke, in Altdeutsche
Studien von O. Jänicke, E. Steinmeyer, W. Wilmanns, Berlin, 1871. Die
Legende vom Ritter Herrn Peter Diemringer von Staufenberg in der
Ortenau, reprint by F. Culemann of the Strassburg edition of Martin
Schott, 1480-82. The old printed copy was made over by Fischart in 1588
(Jobin, Strassburg, in that year), and this 'ernewerte Beschreibung der
alten Geschicht' is rehashed in seven 'Romanzen' in Wunderhorn, I,
407-18, ed. 1806, 401-12, ed. 1853. Simrock, Die deutschen Volksbücher,
III, 1-48.
[349] Engelhardt, pp 6, 13 f: Sagen aus Baden und der Umgegend,
Carlsruhe, 1834, pp 107-122.
[350] Separately printed, under the title, Elveskud, dansk, svensk,
norsk, færøsk, islandsk, skotsk, vendisk, bømisk, tysk, fransk,
italiensk, katalonsk, spansk, bretonsk Folkevise, i overblik ved Svend
Grundtvig. Kjøbenhavn, 1881.
[351] All the Norse versions are in two-line stanzas.
[352] In 'Jomfruen og Dværgekongen,' #C# 25, 26, Grundtvig, No 37, the
woman who has been carried off to the hill, wishing to die, asks that
atter-corns may be put into her drink. She evidently gets, however, only
the villar-konn, elvar-konn, of Landstad, Nos 42-45, which are of
lethean property. But in J. og D. #F#, we may infer an atter-corn,
though none is mentioned, from the effect of the draughts, which is that
belt, stays, and sark successively burst. See p. 363 f.
[353] So, also, Swedish #A#, #F#, Norwegian #A#, #C#. This is a cantrip
sleight of the elves. The Icelandic burden supposes this illumination,
"The low was burning red;" and when Olaf seeks to escape, in Norwegian
#A#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #K#, he has to make his way through the
elf-flame, elvelogi.
[354] Grundtvig remarks that Herder's translation, 'Erlkönigs Tochter,'
Volkslieder, II, 158, took so well with the Germans that at last it came
to pass for an original German ballad. The Wunderhorn, I, 261, ed. 1806,
gives it with the title, 'Herr Olof,' as from a flying sheet
(==Scherer's Deutsche Volkslieder, 1851, p. 371). It appears, with some
little changes, in Zarnack's Deutsche Volkslieder, 1819, I, 29, whence
it passed into Erlach, IV, 6, and Richter und Marschner, p. 60.
Kretzschmer has the translation, again, with a variation here and there,
set to a "North German" and to a "Westphalian" air, p. 8, p. 9.
[355] Owing to a close resemblance of circumstances in 'The Elf-shot,'
in 'Frillens Hævn' ('The Leman's Wreak'), Grundtvig, No 208, and in
'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, No 82, these ballads naturally have
details in common. The pretence that the horse was not sure-footed and
hurtled his rider against a tree; the request to mother, father, etc.,
to make the bed, take care of the horse, apply a bandage, send for a
priest, etc.; the testament, the assignment of the bride by the dying
man to his brother, and her declaration that she will never give her
troth to two brothers; and the nearly simultaneous death of hero, bride,
and mother, occur in many versions of both Elveskud and Ribold, and most
of them in Frillens Hævn. A little Danish ballad, 'Hr. Olufs Død,' cited
by Grundtvig, IV, 847, seems to be Elveskud with the elf-shot omitted.
[356] Luzel was in possession of other versions, but he assures us that
every detail is contained in one or the other of these three.
[357] #B# 13, "You must marry me straightway, or give me my weight in
silver;" _then_, "or die in three days," etc. It is not impossible that
this stanza, entirely out of place in this ballad, was derived from 'Le
Comte des Chapelles,' Luzel, p. 457, from which certain French versions
have taken a part of their story. See Luzel, the eighth and ninth
stanzas, on p. 461.
[358] #B# 50, "A white gown, or _broget_, or my violet petticoat?" Luzel
says he does not understand _broget_, and in his Observations, prefixed
to the volume, expresses a conjecture that it must have been altered
from _droged_, robe d'enfant, robe de femme, but we evidently want a
color. Grundtvig remarks that _broget_ would make sense in Danish, where
it means party-colored. Scotch _broakit_ is black and white. Icelandic
_brók_, tartan, party-colored cloth, is said to be from Gaelic _breac_,
versicolor (Vigfusson). This points to a suitable meaning for Breton
_broget_.
[359] #D# adds: "It was a marvel to see, the night after husband and
wife had been buried, two oaks rise from the common tomb, and on their
branches two white doves, which sang there at daybreak, and then took
flight for the skies."
[360] It will be observed that some of the Renaud ballads in the Poésies
populaires de la France were derived from earlier publications: such as
were communicated by collectors appear to have been sent in in 1852 or
1853. The versions cited by Rathery, Revue Critique, II, 287 ff, are all
from the MS. Poésies populaires. #BB#, #CC# have either been overlooked
by me in turning over the first five volumes, or occur in vol. vi, which
has not yet been received. #GG# came to hand too late to be ranked at
its proper place.
[361] In #C# the mother-in-law tells her daughter, austerely:
Vous aurez plutôt trouvé un mari
Que moi je n'aurai trouvé un fils.
So #E#, nearly. A mother makes a like remark to the betrothed of a dead
son in the Danish ballad of 'Ebbe Tygesen,' Grundtvig, Danske Kæmpeviser
og Folkesange, fornyede i gammel Stil, 1867, p. 122, st. 14. #F# and #T#
conclude with these words of the wife:
'Ma mère, dites au fossoyeur
Qu'il creuse une fosse pour deux;
'Et que l'espace y soit si grand
Que l'on y mette aussi l'enfant.'
The burial of father, mother, and child in a common grave is found
elsewhere in ballads, as in 'Redselille og Medelvold,' Grundtvig, No
271, #A# 37, #G# 20, #M# 26, #X# 27.
[362] Shutting our eyes to other Romance versions, or, we may say,
opening them to Scandinavian ones, we might see in these stabs the
wounds made by the elf-knives in Danish #D#, #G#, #H#, #N#, #O#, #R#,
#X#, Swedish #G#, Norwegian #H#, #I#. See 'Don Joan y Don Ramon,'
further on.
[363] The ballad of 'Luggieri,' published by Salvatori in the Rassegna
Settimanale, Rome, June 22, 1879, and reprinted by Nigra in Romania, XI,
391 (a variety of 'Rizzardo bello,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p.
62, No 83), appears to me not to belong with 'Renaud,' but with the
class of 'The Cruel Brother,' as already remarked of the Venetian ballad
at p. 142.
[364] The version in the Recuerdos was obtained in Majorca by Don J. M.
Quadrado. The editor remarks that the employment of the articles Il and
La instead of Es and Sa proves it to be as old as the sixteenth century.
Die Balearen, etc., is cited after Grundtvig.
[365] I do not entirely understand Professor Milá's arrangement of those
texts which he has not printed in full, and it is very likely that more
of his copies than I have cited exhibit some of the traits specified.
43
THE BROOMFIELD HILL
#A.# 'The Broomfield Hill.' #a.# Scott's Minstrelsy, III,
271, 1803. #b.# The same, II, 229, 1802.
#B.# 'I'll wager, I'll wager,' etc., Herd's Ancient and
Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.
#C.# 'Broomfield Hills,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of
Scotland, II, 291.
#D.# 'Lord John,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.
195.
#E.# Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January, 1830, p. 7.
#F.# 'The Merry Broomfield, or The West Country Wager.'
#a.# Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64^b. #b.# The same, IV,
fol. 10.
A song of 'Brume, brume on hil' is one of those named in The Complaint
of Scotland, 1549, p. 64 of Dr J. A. H. Murray's edition. "The foot of
the song" is sung, with others, by Moros in Wager's "very merry and
pithy Comedy called The longer thou livest the more fool thou art," c.
1568. 'Broom, broom on hil' is also one of Captain Cox's "bunch of
ballets and songs, all auncient," No 53 of the collection, 1575.[366]
The lines that Moros sings are:
Brome, brome on hill,
The gentle brome on hill, hill,
Brome, brome on Hive hill,
The gentle brome on Hive hill,
The brome stands on Hive hill #a#.
"A more sanguine antiquary than the editor," says Scott, "might perhaps
endeavor to identify this poem, which is of undoubted antiquity, with
the 'Broom, broom on hill' mentioned ... as forming part of Captain
Cox's collection." Assuredly "Broom, broom on hill," if that were all,
would justify no such identification, but the occurrence of Hive hill,
both in the burden which Moros sings and in the eighth stanza of Scott's
ballad, is a circumstance that would embolden even a very cautious
antiquary, if he had received Hive hill from tradition, and was
therefore unaffected by a suspicion that this locality had been
introduced by an editor from the old song.[367]
Most of the versions give no explicit account of the knight's prolonged
sleep. He must needs be asleep when the lady comes to him, else there
would be no story; but his heavy slumber, not broken by all the efforts
of his horse and his hawk, is as a matter of course not natural; es geht
nicht zu mit rechten dingen; the witch-wife of #A# 4 is at the bottom of
that. And yet the broom-flowers strewed on his hals-bane in #A# 8, #B#
3, and the roses in #D# 6, are only to be a sign that the maid had been
there and was gone. Considering the character of many of Buchan's
versions, we cannot feel sure that #C# has not borrowed the second and
third stanzas from #B#, and the witch-wife, in the sixth, from #A#; but
it would be extravagant to call in question the genuineness of #C# as a
whole. The eighth stanza gives us the light which we require.
'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew't at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.'
The silver belt about the knight's head in #A# 5 can hardly have to do
with his sleeping, and to me seems meaningless. It is possible that
roses are not used at random in #D# 6, though, like the posie of
pleasant perfume in #F# 9, they serve only to prove that the lady had
been there. An excrescence on the dog-rose, rosenschwamm, schlafkunz,
kunz, schlafapfel, it is believed in Germany, if laid under a man's
pillow, will make him sleep till it is taken away. Grimm, Deutsche
Mythologie, p. 1008, and Deutsches Wörterbuch (Hildebrand), V, 2753 _e_.
#C# makes the lady hide in the broom to hear what the knight will say
when he wakes, and in this point agrees with the broadside #F#, as also
in the comment made by the men on their master in stanza 24; cf. #F# 16.
Mr J. W. Dixon has reprinted an Aldermary Churchyard copy of the
broadside, differing as to four or five words only from #F#, in Ancient
Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 116, Percy
Society, Volume XVII. The editor remarks that #A# is evidently taken
from #F#; from which it is clear that the pungent buckishness of the
broadside does not necessarily make an impression. #A# smells of the
broom; #F# suggests the groom.[368]
The sleep which is produced in #A# by strewing the flower of the broom
on a man's head and feet, according to a witch's advice, is brought
about in two Norse ballads by means not simply occult, but altogether
preternatural; that is, by the power of runes. One of these,
'Sömn-runorna,' Arwidsson, II, 249, No 133, is preserved in a manuscript
of the end of the seventeenth, or the beginning of the eighteenth,
century. The other, 'Sövnerunerne,' Grundtvig, II, 337, No 81, was taken
down in 1847 from the singing of a woman seventy-five years of age.
The Swedish ballad runs thus. There is a damsel in our land who every
night will sleep with a man, and dance a maid in the morning. The fame
of this comes to the ears of the son of the king of England, who orders
his horse, thinking to catch this damsel. When he arrives at the castle
gate, there stands the lady, and asks him what is his haste. He frankly
answers that he expects to get a fair maid's honor for his pains, and
she bids him follow her to the upper room. She lays sheets on the bed,
and writes strong runes on them. The youth sits down on the bed, and is
asleep before he can stretch himself out. He sleeps through that day,
and the next, and into the third. Then the lady rouses him. "Wake up;
you are sleeping your two eyes out." He is still so heavy that he can
hardly stir. He offers her his horse and saddle to report the matter as
he wishes. "Keep your horse," she says; "shame fa such liars."
The Danish story is much the same. One of a king's five sons goes to
make trial of the maid. She tells him to fasten his horse while she goes
before and unlocks; calls to her maid to bring five feather-beds,
feather-beds nine, and write a sleep on each of them. He sleeps through
three days, and is roused the fourth, with "Wake up, wake up; you have
slept away your pluck." He offers her a bribe, as before, which she
scornfully rejects, assuring him that he will not be spared when she
comes among maids and knights.
A sleep produced by runes or gramarye is one of the two main incidents
of a tale in the Gesta Romanorum, better known through the other, which
is the forfeit of flesh for money not forthcoming at the day set, as in
the Merchant of Venice: Latin, Oesterley, No 195, p. 603;[369] English,
Harleian MS. 7333, No 40, printed by Douce, Illustrations of Shakspere,
I, 281, Madden, p. 130, Herrtage, p. 158; German, No 68, of the printed
edition of 1489 (which I have not seen). A knight, who has a passion
for an emperor's daughter, engages to give a thousand [hundred] marks
for being once admitted to her bed. He instantly falls asleep, and has
to be roused in the morning. Like terms are made for a second night, and
the man's lands have to be pledged to raise the money. He sleeps as
before, but stipulates for a third night at the same price. A merchant
lends him the thousand marks, on condition that, if he breaks his day,
his creditor may take the money's weight of flesh from his body. Feeling
what a risk he is now running, the knight consults a philosopher,
Virgil, in the English version. The philosopher (who in the Latin
version says he ought to know, for he had helped the lady to her trick)
tells the knight that between the sheet and coverlet of the bed there is
a letter, which causes the sleep; this he must find, and, when found,
cast far from the bed. The knight follows these directions, and gets the
better of the lady, who conceives a reciprocal passion for him, and
delivers him, in the sequel, from the fearful penalty of his bond by
pleading that the flesh must be taken without shedding of blood.