OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE
God let never so old a man
Marry so young a wife,
As did old Robin of Portingale;
He may rue all the days of his life.
fettle, make ready.
For the mayor's daughter of Lynn, God wot,
He chose her to his wife,
And thought to have lived in quietness,
With her all the days of his life.
They had not in their wed-bed laid,
Scarcely were both on sleep,
But up she rose, and forth she goes,
To Sir Gyles, and fast can weep.
Says, "Sleep you, wake you, fair Sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?
[Sleep you, wake you, fair Sir Gyles,
Arise and let me in.">[
"But I am waking, sweet," he said,
"Lady, what is your will?"
"I have unbethought me of a wile
How my wed lord we shall spill.
"Four and twenty knights," she says,
"That dwells about this town,
E en four and twenty of my next cousins
Will help to ding him down."
With that beheard his little footpage,
As he was watering his master's steed;
[And for his master's sad peril]
His very heart did bleed.
ding, knock.
He mourned, sighed, and wept full sore;
I swear by the holy rood,
The tears he for his master wept
Were blend water and blood.
With that beheard his dear master
As [he] in his garden sat:
Says, "Ever alack, my little page,
What causes thee to weep?
"Hath any one done to thee wrong,
Any of thy fellows here?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
Which makes thee shed such tears?
"Or, if it be my head cook's-man,
Grieved again he shall be:
Nor no man within my house
Shall do wrong unto thee."
"But it is not your head cook's-man,
Nor none of his degree:
But, for to-morrow ere it be noon
You are deemed to die:
"And of that thank your head steward,
And after, your gay lady."
"If it be true, my little foot-page,
I'll make thee heir of all my land."
deemed, doomed.
"If it be not true, my dear master,
God let me never the:"
"If it be not true, thou little foot-page,
A dead corse shalt thou be."
He called down his head cooks-man,
Cook in kitchen supper to dress:
"All and anon, my dear master,
Anon at your request."
"And call you down my fair lady
This night to sup with me."
And down then came that fair lady,
Was clad all in purple and pall:
The rings that were upon her fingers,
Cast light thorow the hall.
"What is your will, my own wed lord?
What is your will with me?"
"I am sick, fair lady,
Sore sick and like to die."
"But and you be sick, my own wed lord,
So sore it grieveth me:
But my five maidens and myself
Will go and make your bed.
"And at the wakening of your first sleep,
You shall have a hot drink made;
And at the wakening of your next sleep
Your sorrows will have a slake."
the, prosper.
He put a silk coat on his back,
Was thirteen inches fold;
And put a steel cap upon his head,
Was gilded with good red gold.
And he laid a bright brown sword by his side,
And another at his feet:
And full well knew old Robin then
Whether he should wake or sleep.
And about the middle time of the night,
Came twenty-four good knights;
Sir Gyles he was the foremost man,
So well he knew that gin.
Old Robin with a bright brown sword,
Sir Gyles' head he did win;
So did he all those twenty-four
Never a one went quick out [agen].
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None but one little foot-page,
Crept forth at a window of stone;
And he had two arms when he came in,
And [when he went out he had none].
Up then came that lady gay,
With torches burning bright;
She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drink,
But she found her own wed knight.
gin, trick.
And the first thing that this lady stumbled upon
Was of Sir Gyles his foot'
Says, "Ever alack, and woe is me!
Here lies my sweet heart-root."
And the second thing that this lady stumbled on
Was of Sir Gyles his head;
Says, "Ever alack, and woe is me!
Here lies my true love dead."
He cut the paps beside her breast,
And bade her wish her will;
And he cut the ears beside her head
And bade her wish on still.
Mickle is the man's blood I have spent,
To do thee and me some good;
Says, "Ever alack, my fair lady,
I think that I was wood!"
He called then up his little foot-page,
And made him heir of all his land;
And he shope the cross on his right shoulder,
Of the white flesh and the red,
And he went him into the holy land,
Whereas Christ was quick and dead.
shope, shaped, cut. wood, mad.