Here is a silver penny to spend,
And take it for your pain, sir;
And two of my father's men I'll send
To wait on you back again, sir. 40
He from his scabbard drew his brand,
And wiped it upon his sleeve-a:
And cursed, he said, be every man,
That will a maid believe-a!
She drew a bodkin from her haire, 45
And whip'd it upon her gown-a;
And curs'd be every maiden faire,
That will with men lye down-a!
A herb there is, that lowly grows,
And some do call it rue, sir: 50
The smallest dunghill cock that crows,
Would make a capon of you, sir.
A flower there is, that shineth bright,
Some call it mary gold-a;
He that wold not when he might, 55
He shall not when he wold-a.
The knight was riding another day,
With cloak and hat and feather:
He met again with that lady gay,
Who was angling in the river. 60
Now, lady faire, I've met with you,
You shall no more escape me;
Remember, how not long agoe
You falsely did intrap me.
The lady blushed scarlet red, 65
And trembled at the stranger:
How shall I guard my maidenhead
From this approaching danger?
He from his saddle down did light,
In all his riche attyer; 70
And cryed, As I am a noble knight,
I do thy charms admyer.
He took the lady by the hand,
Who seemingly consented;
And would no more disputing stand: 75
She had a plot invented.