FOOTNOTES:
[229] [the pens in which the ewes are milked.]
[230] [gather in.]
[231] [joy sparkles.]
[232] Hauss bane, i.e. The neck-bone. Marion had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual ornament in Scotland; where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," properly halse.
[233] [loves.]
[234] [young heifer.]
[235] [woollen cloth.]
[236] [237] [crimson.] This ballad (given from an old black-letter copy, with some corrections) was popular in the time of Q. Elizabeth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as Hearne informs us in his preface to Gul. Neubrig. Hist. Oxon. 1719, 8vo. vol. i. p. lxx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy of the Pilgrim, act iv. sc. 2. [It is also quoted in The Knight of the Burning Pestle: "He set her on a milk white steed." (l. 85.) There are several Scottish versions given by Buchan, Kinloch, and Motherwell. The latter claims greater antiquity for his over Percy's. It appears, however, to be a southern ballad adapted by the Scotch and improved in its humour. The heroine practices various artifices to maintain the character of a "beggar's brat" when riding back with Earl Richard.] There was a shepherd's daughter Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide, 5 The Lord forbid, the maide replyde, Sith you have had your wille of mee, Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart, He sett his foot into the stirrup, But when she came to the brode watèr, 25 He never was the courteous knighte, When she came to the kings faire courte, Now Christ you save, my gracious liege, What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart? He hath not robbed mee, my leige, 45 Now if he be a batchelor, He called downe his merrye men all, He brought her downe full fortye pounde, O Ile have none of your gold, she sayde, Sir William ranne and fetchd her then 65 Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt, Would I had dranke the water cleare, Would I had drank the puddle foule, A shepherds brat even as I was, He sett her on a milk-white steede, 85 But when they came unto the place, Now marrye me, or not, sir knight. Ah! cursed bee the gold, he sayd. And now their hearts being linked fast, *XIII.
THE KNIGHT, AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER.
Came tripping on the waye;
And there by chance a knighte shee mett,
Which caused her to staye.
These words pronounced hee:
O I shall dye this daye, he sayd,
If Ive not my wille of thee.
That you shold waxe so wode! 10
"But for all that shee could do or saye,
He wold not be withstood."
And put me to open shame,
Now, if you are a courteous knighte, 15
Tell me what is your name?
And some do call mee Jille;[238]
But when I come to the kings faire courte
They call me Wilfulle Wille. 20
And awaye then he did ride;
She tuckt her girdle about her middle,
And ranne close by his side.
She sett her brest and swamme;
And when she was got out againe,
She tooke to her heels and ranne.
To saye, faire maide, will ye ride? 30
"And she was ever too loving a maide"
To saye, sir knighte abide.
She knocked at the ring;
So readye was the king himself 35
To let this faire maide in.
Now Christ you save and see,
You have a knighte within your courte
This daye hath robbed mee. 40
Of purple or of pall?
Or hath he took thy gaye gold ring
From off thy finger small?
Of purple nor of pall:
But he hath gotten my maiden head,
Which grieves mee worst of all.
His bodye Ile give to thee;[239] 50
But if he be a married man,
High hanged he shall bee.
By one, by two, by three;
Sir William used to bee the first, 55
But nowe the last came hee.
Tyed up withinne a glove:
Faire maid, Ile give the same to thee;
Go, seeke thee another love. 60
Nor Ile have none of your fee;
But your faire bodye I must have,
The king hath granted mee.
Five hundred pound in golde,
Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,
Thy fault will never be tolde.
These words then answered shee, 70
But your own bodye I must have,
The king hath granted mee.
When I did drinke the wine,
Rather than any shepherds brat 75
Shold bee a ladye of mine!
When I did drink the ale,
Rather than ever a shepherds brat
Shold tell me such a tale! 80
You mote have let me bee,
I never had come othe kings faire courte,
To crave any love of thee.
And himself upon a graye;
He hung a bugle about his necke,
And soe they rode awaye.
Where marriage-rites were done, 90
She proved herself a dukes daughtèr,
And he but a squires sonne.
Your pleasure shall be free:
If you make me ladye of one good towne, 95
Ile make you lord of three.
If thou hadst not been trewe.
I shold have forsaken my sweet love,
And have changed her for a newe. 100
They joyned hand in hande:
Thus he had both purse, and person too,
And all at his commande.