24 Ere many days, in her father's park,
Just at the close of eve-a,
Again she met with her angry sparke,
Which made this lady grieve-a.
25 'False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,
And no one now can hear thee;
And thou shalt sorely rue the hour
That eer thou dar'dst to jeer me.'
26 'I pray, sir knight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a;
I vow and swear I thought no harm;
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.'
27 'A gentle jest in soothe,' he cry'd,
'To tumble me in and leave me!
What if I had in the river dy'd?
That fetch will not deceive me.
28 'Once more I'll pardon thee this day,
Tho injurd out of measure;
But then prepare without delay
To yield thee to my pleasure.'
29 'Well then, if I must grant your suit,
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir;
Let me pull off both spur and boot,
Or else you cannot stir, sir.'
30 He set him down upon the grass,
And begd her kind assistance;
'Now,' smiling thought this lovely lass,
'I'll make you keep your distance.'
31 Then pulling off his boots half-way,
'Sir knight, now I'm your betters;
You shall not make of me your prey;
Sit there like a knave in fetters.'
32 The knight when she had served soe,
He fretted, fum'd and grumbled;
For he could neither stand nor goe,
But like a cripple tumbled.
33 'Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten,
Yet do not move nor stir, sir;
I'll send you my father's serving-men,
To pull off your boots and spurs, sir.