This ballad is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, which is intitled as above. "To the tune of Fond Boy."
[The story of this ballad is of Eastern origin, and is the same as the tale of the Sleeper awakened in the Arabian Nights. The story crops up in many places, some of which are pointed out in Prof. Child's English and Scottish Ballads (vol. viii. p. 54). The question, however, of its origin is not of immediate interest in the discussion of Shakspere's plots, because the author of the old play, Taming of a Shrew, had already used the subject and named the tinker Slie, so that we have not far to seek for Shakspere's original.]
Now as fame does report a young duke keeps a court,
One that please his fancy with frolicksome sport:
But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest,
Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest:
A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground,5
As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.
The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben,
Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then.
O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd
To the palace, altho' he was poorly arrai'd:10
Then they stript off his cloaths, both his shirt, shoes and hose,
And they put him to bed for to take his repose.
Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over durt,
They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt:
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown,15
They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown.
In the morning when day, then admiring he lay,
For to see the rich chamber both gaudy and gay.
Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state,
Till at last knights and squires they on him did wait;20
And the chamberling bare, then did likewise declare,
He desir'd to know what apparel he'd ware:
The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd,
And admired how he to this honour was rais'd.
Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit,25
Which he straitways put on without longer dispute;
With a star on his side, which the tinker offt ey'd,
And it seem'd for to swell him 'no' little with pride;
For he said to himself, Where is Joan my sweet wife?
Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.30