Said he, hold my horse, and look
He takes no cold in his feet.
No, marry shall he, Sir, quoth I,
I’ll lay my cloak underneath him.
I took my cloak, spread it all along,
And his horse on the midst of it.
George. Thou clown, did’st thou set his horse upon thy cloak?
Jenk. Aye, but mark how I served him.
Madge and he was no sooner gone down into the ditch
But I plucked out my knife, cut four holes in my cloak, and made his horse stand on the bare ground.’