He brought in the bore’s head,
And was wonderous bold;
He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffe
Carve itt that co’ld.
XXXV
Some rubb’d their knives
Uppon a whetstone;
Some threw them under the table,
And said they had none.
XXXVI
King Arthur and the child
Stood looking them upon;
All their knives’ edges
Turnèd backe againe.
XXXVII
Craddocke had a litle kniffe
Of iron and of steele;
He birtled[174] the bore’s head
Wonderous weale,
That every knight in the King’s court
Had a morssell.
XXXVIII
The litle Boy had a horne,
Of red gold that ronge[175];
He said, ‘There was noe cuckolde
Shall drinke of my horne,
But he sho’ld itt sheede[176]
Either behind or beforne.’