XVI
But then she put off her headgeare fine—
She had billaments[415] worth a hundred pound—
The hayre was upon that bonny wench’ head
Cover’d her bodye downe to the ground.
XVII
Then he pull’d forth a Scottish brand,
And held it there in his owne right hand;
Sayes, ‘Whether wilt dye upon my sword’s point,
Or thou wilt goe naked home againe?’—
XVIII
‘Life is sweet,’ then, ‘Sir,’ said she,
‘Therefore I pray you leave me with mine;
Before I wo’ld dye on your sword’s point
I had rather goe naked home againe.
XIX
‘My father,’ she sayes, ‘is a right good earle
As any remaines in his owne countrye;
Gif ever he doe your bodye take,
You are sure to flower a gallow-tree.
XX
‘And I have seven brethren,’ she sayes,
‘And they are all hardy men and bold;
Gif ever they doe your bodye take
You’ll never again gang quicke over molde.’—