No. 273: King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth
[There one known Canadian traditional version of this ballad.]
CONTENTS:
1. Child's Narrative
2. Footnotes (Footnotes appear at the end of Child's Narrative)
3. Brief (Kittredge)
4. Child's Ballad Text A (Changes for A b- A c found in End-Notes. Appendix I: The King and the Barker; Appendix II: Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tam worth, etc.; Appendix III: King Henry II and the Miller of Mansfield)
5. End-Notes
6. Appendix (Three versions added as appendices)
7. Additions and Corrections
ATTACHED PAGES (see left hand column):
1. Recordings & Info: 273. King Edward the Fourth & a Tanner of Tamworth
A. Roud No. 248: King Edward the Fourth & a Tanner of Tamworth (16 Listings)
2. Sheet Music: 273. King Edward the Fourth & a Tanner of Tamworth (Bronson's music examples and texts)
3. English and Other Versions (Including Child versions A a- A b- A c)
Child's Narrative: 273. King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth
A. a. Wood, 401, fol. 44, Bodleian Library.
b. Douce, I, 109, Bodleian Library.
c. Roxburghe, I, 176, 177; Chappell, Roxburghe Ballads, I, 529.
The ballad is also in the Pepys collection, II, 129, No 113, and there are two copies in the Euing collection, Nos 273, 274.
The following entries occur in the Stationers' Registers:
1564, September or October, William Greffeth licenced to print a book intituled 'The story of Kynge Henry the IIIIth and the Tanner of Tamowthe.' Arber, I, 264.
1586, August 1, Edward White, 'A merie songe of the Kinge and the Tanner.' Arber, II, 451.[1]
1600, October 6, William White, by the consent of Widow Danter, 'A merye, pleasant and delectable history betwene Kinge Edward the IIIJth and a Tanner of Tamworthe,' and, by like consent of the Widow Danter, "the bal[l]ad of the same matter that was printed by her husband John Danter." Arber, III, 173.
1615, December 9, John Trundle, for a ballad of 'The King and the Tanner.' Arber, III, 579.
1624, December 14, Master Pavier, John Wright, and others, a ballad, 'King and Tanner.' Arber, IV, 131.
The ballad mentioned in the entry under the year 1600 is unquestionably our ballad, or an earlier form of it. No copy from the first half of the seventeenth century is known to be preserved. The "delectable history" entered under the same date is extant in an edition of 1596, printed by John Danter, and in one of 1613, printed by William White.[2] The ballad, as we have it, was made by abridging the fifty-six stanzas of the history to thirty-nine, with other changes. The history itself has its predecessor, and, as Ritson remarks, its undoubted original, in 'The King and the Barker,'[3] between which and the history, though the former has come down to us in a sadly mutilated condition, and has been freely treated in the remodelling, there still remain a few verbal correspondences. Several good points are added in the history, and one or two dropped.
'King Edward the Fourth and Tanner of Tamworth,' in Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 75, was compounded from Danter's history, 1596, and a copy "in one sheet folio, without date, in the Pepys collection."
King Edward, while out a-hunting, sees a tanner coming along the way, and takes a fancy to accost him. Leaving his lords under a tree, he rides forward and asks the tanner the way to Dray ton Basset; the tanner directs him to turn in at the first pair of gallows. The king presses for a civil answer; the tanner bids him be gone; he himself has been riding all day and is fasting. The king promises meat and drink of the best for his company to Drayton Basset; the tanner makes game of the offer, and tries to get away, but in vain. The king now proposes to change his horse for the tanner's mare; the tanner demands a noble to boot, nor shall a cowhide which he is riding on go with the mare. The cowhide thrown on to the king's saddle frightens the horse and the tanner is pitched off; after this he will not keep the horse, but the king in turn exacts a noble to boot. Then the king sounds his horn, and his attendants come riding in; the tanner takes the whole party to be strong thieves, but when he sees the suite fall on their knees he would be glad to be out of the company. 'A collar! a collar!' cries the king (to make the tanner esquire, but this is inadvertently left out in the ballad). 'After a collar comes a halter,' exclaims the unhappy tanner. But the king is graciously pleased to pay for the sport which he has had by conferring on the tanner an estate of three hundred pound a year;[4] in return for which his grateful liegeman engages to give him clouting-leather for his shoon if ever he comes to Tamworth.
Next to adventures of Robin Hood and his men, the most favorite topic in English popular poetry is the chance-encounter of a king, unrecognized as such, with one of his humbler subjects. Even in the Robin Hood cycle we have one of these meetings (in the seventh and eighth fits of the Little Gest), but there the king visits Robin Hood deliberately and in disguise, whereas in the other tales (except the latest) the meeting is accidental.
The most familiar of these tales are 'The King and the Tanner,' and 'The King and the Miller;' the former reaching back beyond the sixteenth century, the latter perhaps not beyond the seventeenth, but modelled upon tales of respectable antiquity, of which there is a specimen from the early years of the thirteenth century.[5]
In the history or "ballad" of 'The King and the Miller,' or, more specifically, 'King Henry Second and the Miller of Mansfield,' the king, while hunting in Sherwood, loses his nobles and is overtaken by night; he meets a miller, and after some colloquy is granted a lodging; is entertained with bag-puddings and apple-pies, to which is added a course of 'light-foot,' a pasty of the king's deer, two or three of which, the miller tells his guest in confidence, he always keeps in store. The nobles recover the king at the miller's the next morning; the miller looks to be hanged when he sees them fall on their knees; the king dubs him knight. The king has relished his night with the miller so much that he determines to have more sport out of him, and commands the attendance of the new knight with his lady and his son Dick at court on St. George's day. The three jet down to the king's hall on their mill-horses. In the course of the dinner the king expresses a wish for some of their light-foot; Dick tells him that it is knavery to eat of it and then betray it. Sir John Cockle and Dick dance with the court-ladies, and the buffoonery ends by the king's making the miller overseer of Sherwood, with a stipend of three hundred pound, to which he attaches an injunction to steal no more deer.[6]
Of the older poems, 'John the Reeve' (910 vv.) may be noticed first, because it has a nearly complete story, and also resemblance in details with 'The King and the Tanner,' or 'The King and the Miller,' which two others of perhaps earlier date have not. 'John the Reeve' is now extant only in the Percy Manuscript (p. 357, Hales and Furnivall, II, 550). Since there had been but three kings of the name of Edward (v. 16), it must have been composed, as Mr. Hales has remarked, between the death of Edward III and the accession of Edward IV, 1376-1461, and forms of language show that the Percy text must be nearer the end than the beginning of this period.[7]
Edward Longshanks, while hunting, is separated from all his train but a bishop and an earl. Night comes on, and they know not where they are, and the weather is cold and rough. As they stand considering which way to turn, a stout carl rides by; they beg him to take them to some harbor. The fellow will at first have nothing to do with them, but finally shows a disposition to be accommodating if they will swear to do him no harm; all that he can promise them, however, is beef and bread, bacon a year old, and sour ale; as for a good fire, which the king would particularly like, they cannot have that, for fuel is dear. They ride on to a town, light at a comely hall, and are taken into a room with a bright fire and candles lighted. The carl, who has already described himself as John the Reeve, husbandman and the king's bondman, inquires of the earl who the long fellow may be, and who the other in the sark: the first, he is told, is Piers, the queen's chief falconer, the other a poor chaplain, and the earl himself a sumpterman. 'Proud lads, and I trow penniless,' is John's comment; he himself, though not so fine, has a thousand pound and more. They move on to the hall, and are civilly received by the goodwife. John marshals the company, now increased by two daughters of the house, and by Hodge and Hob, two neighbors, setting the three strangers and his wife at the head of the table, his daughters farther down, and taking the end himself with his neighbors. Bean-bread, rusty bacon, lean salt beef a year old, and sour ale are brought in, and every one has a mess. The king murmurs, John says, Thou, gettest no other; the king coaxes, John will not give them a morsel unless they swear never to tell of him to Edward. All three pledge their troth, and then come in fine bread, wine red and white, in silver cups, the boar's head, capons, venison, everything that king could have or crave. After the supper, John, Hob, and Hodge perform a rustic dance; King Edward (who gets his shins kicked) never had so merry a night. In the morning they hear mass and eat a good breakfast, for which they promise warison, and then the king takes leave and rides to Windsor. The lords have a good story to tell the queen; she prays the king to send for the reve. John is convinced that he has been beguiled by his guests, but arms himself with such as he has, and, after a huge libation with Hodge and Hob, sets forth. The porter at the palace will not let him in; John knocks him over the crown and rides into the hall. Neither before this nor then will he vail hat or hood. [The passage in which the reve discovers that Piers falconer was the king has dropped out.] John bears himself sturdily; the king can punish him, but the king is honorable and will keep his word, and may remember the promised warison. The king gives thanks for the hot capons and good wine, the queen urges that the reve should be promoted. The king, nothing loath, makes John a gentleman, and gives him his manor, a hundred pound and a tun of wine yearly, then takes a collar and creates him knight. John blenches a little at the collar; he has heard that after a collar comes a rope; but he recovers his nerve after supping off a gallon of wine at the table. It is now the bishop's turn to do something; he promises his good offices for John's two sons and two daughters; these, in the end, are well disposed of, and Hodge and Hob are made freemen. John ever after keeps open board for all guests that God sends him.
The tale of Rauf Coilyear,[8] shortly after 1480, has for its personages Charles the Great and a charcoal-burner. Charles, on his way to Paris from St. Thomas, is isolated from his cortege by a fierce storm; night has come on and he is in a strait for shelter. By good luck Rauf makes his appearance, a churl of prodigious inurbanity, but ready to take in any good fellow that is 'will of his way.' Arrived at his house, Rauf calls to his wife to make a fire and kill capons. When supper is dight, the guest is told to give the goodwife his hand and take the head of the table. Charles hangs back; the churl, who has once before criticised his manners, hits him under the ear and sends him sprawling to the floor. There is a plenteous supper, in which venison is not lacking. The carl tells the king that the foresters have threatened to send him to Paris for deer stealing, but he means to have enough for himself and a guest in spite of them. Then after wine they sit by the fire and the collier tells many a tale. Charles is affable; Rauf asks him his name and where he lives; Wymond is his name, and he lives with the queen, in fact, is of her bed-chamber; if Rauf will come to court he shall have the better sale for his fuel. Charles is put to bed in a handsome room, and rises so early that he has to waken his host to take leave. He is urged not to go so soon, but to-morrow is Yule and every officer of the court must be at his post. He wishes to pay the goodwife for her good entertainment; Rauf will not hear of such a thing. Come to court to-morrow, says the king; I want coals myself. Roland and Oliver and a thousand more have been wandering all night in search of their lord, and thank God when they recover him on the road to Paris. Rauf sets out for the court with his coals, according to appointment; the king has him in mind, and sends out Roland to bring in such man as he may meet. Roland finds the collier intractable, and has to return without him. The king is displeased, and Roland is on the point of going again, when he learns from a porter that there is a man with a horse and baskets at the gate who will not be turned away. Rauf is let in; he gives his horse in charge to the porter, and pushes into the hall to find Wymond, and after being shoved about a good deal, gets sight of him, dressed in cloth of gold, and clearly a much greater man than he had called himself; he is daunted by all the splendor; if he could but get away, nothing should bring him to the court again. The king then tells the story of his night at Rauf's, not pretermitting the carl's rough behavior. The lords laugh, the knights are for hanging him; the king thinks he owes better thanks, and dubs Rauf knight, assigns him three hundred a year, and promises him the next fief that falls vacant.[9]
'King Edward Third and the Shepherd,' Manuscript of about 1450, Cambridge University Library, Ff. 5. 48 b, 1090 vv.[10]
The king, while taking his pleasure by a river-side one morning, meets Adam, a shepherd, and engages in talk with him. The shepherd complains of the king's men, who help themselves to his beasts, sheep, hens, and geese, and at best pay with a tally. Edward is concerned for the king's good fame; he is a merchant, but has a son with the queen who can get any boon of her, and the shepherd shall have what is due him. That is four pound two, says Adam, and you shall have seven shillings for your service. It is arranged that the shepherd shall come to court the next day and ask the porter for Joly Robyn. The king is kept a long time by the shepherd's stories, but not too long, for when he is invited to come home and take a bit to eat he accepts with pleasure. They see many a coney, hart, and hind, on their way, and the king tries to put up Adam, who has been bragging of his skill with the sling, to kill a few; but the man, as he says, knows very well the danger of poaching, and never touches anything but wild fowl. Of these they have all sorts at their meal, and two-penny ale. Before they set to drinking, Adam instructs the king in an indispensable form: he that drinks first must call out 'passilodion,' and the respondent 'berafrynd.' Edward praises the dinner, but owns to a hankering for a little game. Can you keep a secret? asks the shepherd; indeed he can. Upon this assurance, Adam fetches pasties of rabbits and deer; of these he is wont to kill more than he himself needs, and sends presents to gentlemen and yeomen, who in return furnish him with bread, ale, and wine. Wine follows: Edward calls 'passilodion;' Adam is ready with 'berafrynd.' The king now takes leave, but before he goes the shepherd shows him a room underground well stored with venison and wine, and they have one draught more. The next day the shepherd goes to court and asks the porter for Joly Robyn. The king has prepared his lords for the visit, and directed them to call him by that name. Adam is paid his four pound two, and offers Robyn the promised seven shillings for his mediation. Robyn will take nothing; he would do much more than that for love; Adam must dine with him, and is placed at the head of a table. The king sends the prince to Adam for a bout of passilodion; Adam says the merchant has betrayed him, and wishes he were out of the place. A squire is now ordered to tell Adam that Joly Robyn is the king. Adam puts down his hood, which up to this time he would do for nobody, [11] falls on his knees, and cries mercy. The rest is wanting, but we may be certain that Adam was knighted and presented with an estate.
'King Edward and the Hermit,' Manuscript Ashmole 6922, of about 1450, a fragment of 522 vv.[12]
The king, hunting in Sherwood, follows a remarkably large deer till he loses himself. By the favor of St. Julian, he discovers a hermitage; he asks quarters for the night; the hermit lives on roots and rinds, and such a lord would starve with him, but he yields to urgency. The guest must take such as he finds, and that is bread and cheese and thin drink. King Edward expresses his surprise that the hermit should not help himself out with the deer; the hermit is much too loyal for that, and besides, the peril is to be considered. Still the king presses for venison; no man shall know of it; the hermit, convinced that he is safe with his company, brings out venison, salt and fresh, and then a four-gallon pot. The king is taught to drink in good form; when one calls 'fusty bandyas,' the other must come in with 'stryke pantere;' and thus they lead holy life. Such cheer deserves requital; if the hermit will come to court, where his guest is living, he has only to ask for Jack Fletcher, and they two will have the best that is there; the 'frere,' though not eager to close with this proposal, says he will venture a visit. To show Jack more of his privity he takes him into his bedroom and gives him a bow to draw; Jack can barely stir the string; the frere hauls to the head an arrow an ell long. Then, wishing that he had a more perfect reliance on Jack's good faith, the hermit exhibits his stock of venison, after which they go back to their drinking, and keep it up till near day. They part in the morning; the king reminds his host of the promised visit, and rides straight for home. His knights, who have been blowing horns for him all night in the forest, are made happy by hearing his bugle, and return to the town. This is all that is preserved, but again we may be confident that King Edward made the hermit an abbot.
That the hermit had some habilitation for such promotion appears from a story told by Giraldus Cambrensis two hundred years be fore the apparent date of any of these poems.[13]
King Henry Second, separated from his men in hunting, came to a Cistercian house at nightfall and was hospitably received, not as king (for this they knew not), but as a knight of the king's house and retinue. After a handsome supper, the abbot asked his help in some business of the fraternity on which he was to visit the king the next day, and this was readily promised. The abbot, to improve his guest's good disposition, had his health drunk in many a cup of choice wine, after the English fashion; but instead of the customary salutation or challenge 'wes heil!'[14] called 'pril!' The king, who would have answered 'drinc heil!' was at a loss how to respond; he was told that 'wril!' was the word. And so with 'pril' and 'wril' they pursued their compotation, monks, freres, guests, servants, deep into the night. The next morning the king rejoined his party, who had been much alarmed at losing him. Order was given that when the abbot came he should be immediately admitted, and it was not long before he made his appearance, with two of his monks. The king received him graciously, all that he asked was granted; the abbot begged leave to retire, but the king carried him off to luncheon and seated him by his side. After a splendid meal, the king, lifting a big cup of gold, called out, 'Pril, father abbot!' The abbot, staggering with shame and fear, begged his grace and forgiveness. The king swore by God's eyes that as they had eaten and drunk together in good fellowship the night before, so should it be to-day; and it should be 'pril' and 'wril' in his house as it had been at the convent. The abbot could not but obey, and stammered out his 'wril,' and then king and abbot, knights and monks, and, at the king's command, everybody in hall and court, kept up unremittingly a merry and uproarious interchange of 'pril' and 'wril.' Of all the four old poems we may repeat what Percy has said of 'John the Reeve,' that "for genuine humor, diverting incidents, and faithful pictures of rustic manners, they are infinitely superior to all that have been since written in imitation," meaning by these the broadside ballads or histories. [15] A brief account of such of these as have not been spoken of (all of very low quality) is the utmost that is called for.
'The Shepherd and the King.' [16] King Alfred, disguised in ragged clothes, meets a shepherd, and all but demands a taste of his scrip and bottle. The shepher6 will make him win his dinner, sword and buckler against sheephook. They fight four hours, and the king cries truce; 'there is no sturdier fellow in the land than thou,' says the king; 'nor a lustier roister than thou,' says the shepherd. The shepherd thinks his antagonist at best a ruined prodigal, but offers to take him as his man; Alfred accepts the place, is equipped with sheep-hook, tar-box, and dog, and accompanies his master home. Dame Gillian doubts him to be a cut-throat, and rates him roundly for letting her cake burn as he sits by the fire.[17] Early the next morning Alfred blows his horn, to the consternation of Gill and her husband, who are still abed. A hundred men alight at the door; they have long been looking for their lord. The shepherd expects to be hanged; both he and his wife humbly beg pardon. Alfred gives his master a thousand wethers and pasture ground to feed them, and will change the cottage into a stately hall.
'King James and the Tinker.'[18] King James, while chasing his deer, drops his nobles, and rides to an ale-house in search of new pleasures, finds a tinker there, and sets to drinking with him. The tinker has never seen the king, and wishes he might; James says that if he will get up behind him he shall see the king. The tinker fears that he shall not know the king from his lords; the nobles will all be bare, the king covered. When they come to the greenwood the nobles gather about the king and stand bare; the tinker whispers, 'they are all gallant and gay, which, then, is the king?' 'It must be you or I,' answers James, for the rest are all uncovered. The tinker falls on his knees, beseeching mercy; the king makes him a knight with five hundred a year. (Compare the story of James Fifth of Scotland and John Howieson, Scott's Tales of a Grandfather, ch. 27.)
'The King and the Forester.'[19] King William the Third, forbidden to hunt by a forester who does not recognize him, tries in vain to bribe the man, makes himself known, presents the forester with fifty guineas, and appoints him ranger.
'The Royal Frolick, or, King William and his Nobles' Entertainment at the Farmer's House on his return from the Irish wars.'[20] King William, 'returning to London from Limerick fight,' stops at a farm-house 'for merriment sake,' and asks country cheer for himself and his nobles. The farmer and his wife have gone to the next market-town to see the king pass, and their daughter alone is at home. She serves bacon and eggs, all that she has; the king throws her ten guineas, and one of his lords adds two for loyal sentiments which the girl had expressed. In a Second Part the farmer and his wife, when they return, learn that the king is at their house, are ordered into his presence, and are rewarded for the meal which had been furnished. [21]
'The King and the Cobbler' (a prose history). [22] King Henry Eighth, visiting the watches in the city, makes acquaintance with a cobbler, and is entertained in the cobbler's cellar; invites the cobbler to court, directing him to inquire for Harry Tudor, etc.; settles upon him land in the Strand worth fifty pound a year, which land is to be called Cobler's Acre.
Campbell, West Highland Tales, IV, 142, says that he has a Gaelic tale like 'The Miller of Mansfield.'
A Belgian story of the Emperor Charles Fifth and a broom-maker has all the typical points of the older cycle, and, curiously enough, Charles Fifth instructs the broom-maker to bring a load of his ware to the palace to sell, as Charles the Great does in the case of Rauf Coilyear: Maria von Ploennies, Die Sagen Belgiens, p. 251.
The same collection, p. 246 f., has the story of the man who wished to see the king (an anecdote of Charles Fifth and a peasant). This story turns up again in Thiele's 'Kongen og Bonden,' Danmarks Folkesager, I, 62 (1843). Christian the Fourth, after a long walk, takes a seat in the cart of a countryman who is on his way to the castle. The countryman wishes that he might see the king; the king will be the only man to keep his hat on; the countryman says, It must be you or I.
After the older pattern is this Russian story, Afanasief, VII, 233, No 32 (given me by Professor Wollner). A tsar who has lost himself while hunting passes the night with a deserter in a robbers-hut in a wood. They draw lots who shall stand guard, and the lot falls to the tsar, to whom the soldier gives his side-arms. Notwithstanding many warnings, the tsar dozes on his post, and at last the soldier, first punishing him a little, packs him off to sleep. The robbers come, one by one, and are shot by the soldier. The next day the deserter shows the tsar his road, and afterwards pays the tsar a visit at court, discovers who his comrade was, and is made general.
The Emperor Maximilian Second, while walking in a wood, comes upon a charcoal-burner; they have a talk, and the emperor is invited to share the man's dumplings. Maximilian asks the charcoal-burner to pay him a visit when he comes to the city, lets him see the princes and the empress, and gives him a luncheon. There is no éclaircissement at the time. In the end the charcoal-burner and his family are employed in the imperial garden.[23]
Robert Dodsley made a very pleasing little sentimental drama out of 'The King and the Miller of Mansfield ' (1737), and from this play (perhaps through a translation, 'Le Roi et le Meunier,' made before 1756), Sédaine took the substance of 'Le Roi et le Fermier,' 1762, and Collé the idea of 'La Partie de Chasse de Henri IV, 1774.' Goldoni's musical drama, 'Il re alia caccia'King Henry IV of England), produced a year after Sédaine's play, seems to have been suggested by it: vol. 37 of the edition of Venice, 1794.
Percy's ballad is translated by Bodmer, I, 172.
Footnotes:
1. 1599, August 28, two plays, being the first and second part of [Thomas Heywood's] 'Edward the IIIJth and the Tanner of Tamworth,' etc. Arber, III, 147.
2. See an appendix to this ballad. White's edition has verbal variations from the earlier, and supplies three lines and a half-line which have been cut off in the Bodleian copy of Danter. Heber had a copy of 'King Edward 4th and the Tanner,' printed by Edward Allde (1602-23), whether the "history" or the "ballad" does not appear.
3. Printed by Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, 1791, p. 57. Given in an appendix.
4. 'The King and the Barker' is less extravagant and more rational here; the king simply orders the barker 'a hundred shilling in his purse.' But both the esquiring (knighting) and the estate are found in still older poems which remain to be mentioned.
5. A pervasive boorishness, with some coarse pleasantry, distinguishes the seventeenth-century tales disadvantageously from the older ones.
6. There is an entry of 'Miller and King' (among 128 ballads), December 14, 1624; another entry, June 30, 1625: Stationers' Registers, Arber, IV, 131, 143. The broadside is in many of the collections: 'A pleasant ballad of King Henry second and the Miller of Mansfield,' Roxburghe, I, 178, 228, III, 853, the first reprinted by Chappell, Roxburghe Ballads, I, 537; Pepys, I, 528, No 272; Bagford, II, 25; Wood, 401, fol. 5 b, 'A pleasant new ballad of the Miller of Mansfield in Sherwood and K. Henry the Second,' Wood, 254, iv, 'The pleasant history of the Miller of Mansfield,' etc., dated 1655; Crawford, No 491. Also, 'Kinge and Miller,' Percy Manuscript, p. 235, Hales and Furnivall, II, 147 (see Appendix); Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 179, the Manuscript copy "with corrections" from the Pepys. — Not in the ballad-stanza.
7. John the Reeve is mentioned (in conjunction with Rauf Coilyear) by G. Douglas, Palice of Honour, 1501, Small, I, 65, v. 3, and by Dunbar, about 1510, Small, I, 105, v. 33; John the Reeve again by Lindsay, The Complaynt of the Papingo, 1530, Chalmers, I, 318.
8. Reprinted in Laing's Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, from the edition of St. Andrews, 1572; thence in Charlemagne Romances, No 6, ed. S.J. Herrtage, Early English Text Society, 1882. As to the date, see Max Tonndorf, Rauf Coilyear, Halle a. S. 1893, p. 13 ff.
9. So far 767 verses of 975: the rest is not pertinent and is very poor stuff. 'Rauf Coilyear' is a clever piece, but I cannot think with Mr. Herrtage that it is "quite original." Its exaggerations suggest a second hand; the author means to pepper higher with his churl's discourtesy than had been done before. The 'marshalling' in 183-86 recalls 'John the Reeve,' 342-50.
10. Printed in Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 35. Professor Kittredge has called my attention to a stanza of Occleve's which shows that the belief that Edward III went about in disguise among his subjects prevailed not long after the king's death.
~~ O worthy kyng benigne, Edwarde the laste,
Thow hadest ofte in thyne hart a drede impressede
Whiche that thyne humble goste fulle sore agaste,
And to knowe yf thow cursed were or blessede,
Amonge the peple ofte hast thow the dressede
Into the contrey, in symple aray alone,
To heere what men seide of thy persone.
Occleve, De Regimine Principum,
ed. Wright (Roxb. Club), p. 92.
11. So John the Reeve; five or six times in each.
12. Printed in The British Bibliographer, IV, 81, thence in Hartshorne's Metrical Tales, p. 293, and, with some improvements from the Manuscript, in Hazlitt's Early Popular Poetry, I, 11. 'The King and the Hermit' is told as 'the romans says,' v. 15. It is, as Scott has explained, the source of a charming chapter (the sixteenth of the first volume) of 'Ivanhoe.' There are many agreements with 'The King and the Shepherd.'
13. Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, ed. Brewer, Speculum Ecclesiæ, IV, 213-15, about 1216.
14. See Geoffrey of Monmouth, Hist. Reg. Brit., vi, 12, Wace, Roman de Brut, 7111-44, ed. Le Roux de Lincy, I, 329, Layamon's Brut, 14297-332, Madden, II, 174 f.; and for other drinking-calls besides these, Wace, Roman de Rou, Part iii, 7357-60, ed. Andresen, II, 320.
15. Preface to 'The King and Miller of Mansfield.'
16. 1578, September 25, licensed to Ric. Jones, 'A merry Songe of a Kinge and a Shepherd:' Arber, II, 338.
1624, December 14, to Master Pavier and others, among 128 ballads, 'King and Shepperd:' Arber, IV, 131.
Wood, 401, fol. 1 b; Douce, I, fol. 1 b; Euing, Nos 331, 332; Pepys, I, 76, No 36, I, 506, No 260; Crawford, No 648; Roxburghe, I, 504, printed by Chappell, III, 210.
17. This is as old as Asser; Annales, Wise, Oxford, 1722, p. 30.
18. 'King James and the Tinker,' Douce, III, fol. 126 b, fol. 136 b; no printer, place, or date. 'King James the First and the Tinker,' Garland of Mirth and Delight; no place or date. The same: 'King James and the Tinkler,' Dixon, in Richardson's Borderer's Table-Book, VII, 7, and Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, etc., p. 109, Percy Society, vol. xvii. 'James V. and the Tinker,' A. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 283. 'King James the First and the fortunate Tinker,' The King and Tinker's Garland, containing three excellent songs, Sheffield, 1745, Halliwell, Notices of Fugitive Tracts, p. 29, No 36, Percy Society, vol. xxix (not seen). 'The King and the Tinkler,' a rifacimento, in Maidment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 92; Kinloch Manuscripts, V, 293.
19. 'The Loyal Forrister, or Royal Pastime,' printed for C. Bates in Pye-Corner (c. 1696), Euing, No 156. 'King William and his Forrester,' no imprint, c. 1690-94, Crawford, No 1421. 'The King and the Forrester,' Roxburghe, III, 790, Ebsworth VII, 763 (Bow Church-Yard?). 'King William going a hunting,' Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 101, from tradition.
20. 'The Royal Frolick,' etc., Pepys, II, 313, in Ebsworth's Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 756.
21. 'The Royal Recreation, or A Second Part, containing the passages between the Farmer and his Wife at their return home, where they found the King with his Noble Retinue.' Pepys, II, 326, Roxburghe, II, 397, Ebsworth, VII, 761.
22. 'The King and the Cobler.' Charles Dennison, at the sign of the Stationers' Arms within Aldgate (1685-89, Chappell). Wood, 254, xi; Pepys, Penny Merriments, vol. i; Halliwell, Notices of Popular Histories, p. 48, Percy Society, vol. xxiii, Newcastle, without date; Manchester Penny Histories (last quarter of the eighteenth century), Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 482, No 6.
23. Kulda, Moravské n. pohádky, etc., 1874, I, 56, No 20, in Wenzig, Westslavischer Märchenschatz, p. 179.
Tonndorf, in the dissertation already cited, remarks with truth that meetings of king and subject (or the like) are quite regularly a sequel or incident of a hunt, and refers to Grimms, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 550, 563, 566; Cardonne, Mélanges de Littérature orientale, pp. 68, 87, 110; Grässe, Gesta Romanorum, cap. 56, 1, 87, Anhang, No 16, II, 198; Othonis Melandri Ioco-Seria, No 338, p. 292, ed. Frankfort, 1617. In four of these cases the noble person loses his way, and has to seek hospitality. In Deutsche Sagen, No 566, we have a charcoal-burner who relieves a prince's hunger and is afterwards entertained at the prince's table.
Brief Description by George Lyman Kittredge
In the Stationers' Registers, Oct. 6, 1600, there was entered to William White, by the consent of Widow Danter, 'A merye, pleasant and delectable history betwene Kinge Edward the IIIJ th and a Tanner of Tamworthe,' and, by like consent of the Widow Danter, "the bal[l]ad of the same matter that was printed by her husband John Danter." Arber, in, 173. The ballad mentioned in this entry is unquestionably our ballad, or an earlier form of it. No copy from the first half of the seventeenth century is known to be preserved. The "delectable history" entered under the same date is extant in an edition of 1596. printed by John Danter. and in one of 1613, printed by William White (both edited in Child, v, 81 ff.). The ballad, as we have it, was made by abridging the fifty-six stanzas of the history to thirty-nine, with other changes. The history itself has its undoubted original in 'The King and the Barker' (printed in Child, v, 78 ft .), between which and the history, though the former lias come down to us in a sadly mutilated condition, and has been freely treated in the remodelling, there still remain a few verbal correspondences. Several good points are added in the history, and one or two dropped.
Other similar rhymed tales in English are John the Reeve (Percy Manuscript), Rauf Coilyear, King Edward III and the Shepherd (Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales), King Henry II and the Miller of Mansfield (Child, v, 84 ff.), etc.
Child's Ballad Texts
'A pleasant new ballad of King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, &etc.'- Version A a; Child 273 King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth
a. Wood, 401, fol. 44, Bodleian Library.
1 In summer time, when leaves grew green,
and birds were singing on every tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
some pastime for to see.
2 Our king he would a hunting ride,
by eight a clock of the day,
And well was he ware of a bold tanner,
came riding on the way.
3 A good russet coat the tanner had on,
fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide,
and a mare of four shilling.
4 'Now stand you here, my good lords all,
under this trusty tree,
And I will wend to yonder fellow,
to know from whence came he.
5 'God speed, God speed,' then said our king;
'Thou art welcome, good fellow,' quoth he;
'Which is the way to Drayton Basset
I pray thee shew to me.'
6 'The ready way to Drayton Basset,
from this place as thou dost stand,
The next pair of gallows thou comst to
thou must turn up [on] thy right hand.'
7 'That is not the way,' then said our king,
'The ready way I pray thee shew me;'
'Whether thou be thief or true man,' quoth the tanner,
'I'm weary of thy company.
8 'Away, with a vengeance,' qoth the tanner,
'I hold thee out of thy wit,
For all this day have I ridden and gone,
And I am fasting yet.'
9 'Go with me to Drayton Basset,' said our king,
'No daintyes we will lack;
We'l have meat and drink of the best,
And I will pay the shot.'
10 'Godamercy for nothing,' said the tanner,
'Thou shalt pay for no dinner of mine;
I have more groats and nobles in my purse
then thou hast pence in thine.'
11 'God save your goods,' then said the king,
'And send them well to thee!'
'Be thou thief or true man,' quoth the tanner,
'I am weary of thy company.
12 'Away, with a vengeance,' quoth the tanner,
'of thee I stand in fear;
The aparrell thou wearst on thy back
May seem a good lord to wear.'
13 'I never stole them' said our king,
'I swear to thee by the rood;'
'Thou art some ruffian of the country,
thou rid'st in the midst of thy good.'
14 'What news dost thou hear?' then said our king,
'I pray what news do you hear?'
'I hear no news,' answered the tanner,
'But that cow-hides be dear.'
15 'Cow-hides? cow-hides?' then said our king,
'I marvell what they be;'
'Why, art thou a fool?' quoth the tanner,
'look, I have one under me.'
16 'Yet one thing now I would thee pray,
so that thou wouldst not be strange;
If thy mare be better then my steed,
I pray thee let us change.'
17 'But if you needs with me will change,
As change full well may ye,
By the faith of my body,' quoth the tanner,
'I look to have boot of thee.'
18 'What boot wilt thou ask?' then said our king,
'what boot dost thou ask on this ground?'
'No pence nor half-pence,' said the tanner,
'But a noble in gold so round.'
19 'Here's twenty good groats,' then said the king,
'So well paid see you be;'
'I love thee better then I did before,
I thought thou hadst nere a peny.
20 'But if so be we needs must change,
as change thou must abide,
Though thou hast gotten Brock my mare,
thou shalt not have my cow-hide.'
21 The tanner took the good cow-hide,
that of the cow was hilt,
And threw it upon the king's saddle,
That was so fairly guilt.
22 'Now help me, help me,' quoth the tanner,
'Full quickly that I were gone,
For when I come home to Gillian my wife
she'l say I'm a gentleman.'
23 The king took the tanner by the leg,
he girded a fart so round;
'You'r very homely,' said the king,
'were I aware, I'd laid you o th' ground.'
24 But when the tanner was in the king's saddle
astoned then he was;
He knew not the stirrops that he did wear,
whether they were gold or brass.
25 But when the steed saw the black cow-tale wag,
for and the black cow-horn,
The steed began to run away,
as the divel the tanner had born.
26 Untill he came unto a nook,
a little beside an ash;
The steed gave the tanner such a fall
his neck was almost brast.
27 'Take thy horse again, with a vengeance,' he said,
'with me he shall not abide;'
'It is no marvell,' said the king, and laught,
'He knew not your cow-hide.
28 'But if that we needs now must change,
as change that well we mought,
I'le swear to you plain, if you have your mare,
I look to have some boot.'
29 'What boot will you ask?' quoth the tanner,
'What boot will you ask on this ground?'
'No pence nor half-pence,' said our king,
'But a noble in gold so round.'
30 'Here's twenty [good] groats,' said the tanner,
'And twenty more I have of thine;
I have ten groats more in my purse,
we'l drink five of them at the wine.'
31 The king set a bugle-horne to his mouth,
that blew both loud and shrill,
And five hundred lords and knights
came riding over a hill.
32 'Away, with a vengeance,' quoth the tanner,
'with thee I'le no longer abide;
Thou art a strong thief, yonder be thy fellows,
they will steal away my cow-hide.'
33 'No I protest,' then said our king,
'For so it may not be;
They be the lords of Drayton Basset,
come out of the North Country.'
34 But when they came before the king
full low they fell on their knee;
The tanner had rather then a thousand pound
he had been out of his company.
35 'A coller! a coller!' then said the king,
'a coller!' then did he cry;
Then would he have given a thousand pound
he had not been so nigh.
36 'A coller? a coller?' then quoth the tanner,
'it is a thing which will breed sorrow;
For after a coller commeth a halter,
and I shall be hanged tomorrow.'
37 'No, do not fear,' the king did say;
'For pastime thou hast shown me,
No coller nor halter thou shalt have,
but I will give thee a fee.
38 'For Plompton Park I will give thee,
with tenements three beside,
Which is worth three hundred pound a year,
to maintain thy good cow-hide.'
39 'Godamercy, Godamercy,' quoth the tanner;
'For this good deed thou hast done,
If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth
thou shalt have clouting-leather for thy shone.'
End-Notes
a, b. A pleasant new ballad of King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as he rode a hunting with his nobles towards (b, to) Drayton Bass[et]. To an excellent new tune.
a. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.
b. London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.
c. A pleasant new ballad betweene King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as hee rode upon a time with his nobles on hunting towards Drayton Basset... London, Printed by A. M. (probably Alexander Milbourne, 1670-97).
a. 11. grow.
12. birds sitting.
73, 361. qd.
83, 374. the.
134. of the.
183. no half pence said our king.
204. shalt noo.
232. guirded.
292. in this.
294. gould.
303. groat.
351. A choller, a coller.
352, 361,3, 373. choller.
382. besides.
b. 11. grow.
12. birds were singing.
21. he wanting.
32. to his.
64. up on.
73. be a: or a
111. said our.
134. the wood.
142. pray thee: dost thou.
162. would.
171. if thou.
174. have some boot
181. boot will you have.
183. nor half pence said the tanner.
191. said our.
192. see thou.
204. not have.
212. off.
221. Now help me up, quoth.
223. For wanting.
232. guirded.
234. I had.
241. But wanting.
242. astonished,
252. and before the.
261. into.
262. an oak.
264. almost broke.
281. now wanting.
282. change well now we might.
292. on this.
301. twenty good.
303. groats.
343. he gave a.
351,2, 361,3, 373. collar.
361. then wanting.
362. which wanting.
382. beside.
394. clout-leather.
c. 11. grew.
12. birds sitting.
24. come.
41. good my lords.
54. pray you shew it to.
61. ready wanting.
62. this way.
64. upon the left.
72. readiest.
83. all wanting.
93. For wee'l.
94. for the.
101. quoth the.
111. our king.
113. said the.
132. to you.
134. of thy.
141. doe you.
161. thing of thee I.
162. would.
164. pray you.
171. thou needs: wilt.
181. the king.
183. wilt thou.
183. nor half pence said the tanner.
192. see that you.
201. we must needs.
202. we must.
204. not have.
211. he tooke.
221. helpe, helpe me up.
232. girded.
233. then said.
234. I'de a laid.
242. that he.
281. wee must needs now change here.
282. well that we mote.
284. I doe looke.
291. wilt thou.
292. wilt thou: on this.
293. said the.
294. but in gold twenty pound.
301. twenty groats.
302. I had.
303. groats.
313. Then five.
343. a hundred.
344. of their.
351,2, 361,3, 373. coller.
352. that he did cry.
361. then wanting.
362. that is a thing will.
381. will thee give.
382. with the: beside.
383. five hundred.
The Pepys copy was printed for J. W[right], J. C[larke], W. T[hackeray], and T. P[assinger]. Euing, No 273, for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke; No 274, for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson (as a). Heber's copy for F. Coles (1646-74).
Appendix
Appendix I: The King and the Barker
Library of the University of Cambridge, Manuscript Ee. iv, 35. 1, fol. 19 b. Written mostly in couplets of long lines, sometimes in stanzas of four short lines, with omissions, transpositions, and other faults.
It will be observed that neither in this tale nor in the "history" which follows does the tanner become aware that he has been dealing with "our kyng." In both he calls the king "good fellow" to the very last. What happens at the meeting with Lord Basset, 30, is not made quite intelligible. It must be that Lord Basset and his men fall on their knees, but the conviction that "this" is the king seems to make no great difference in the tanner's bearing.
1 Well yow here a god borde
to make yow all low,
How get ffell apon a tyme,
or eney man het know?
2 The kyng rod a hontyng,
as þat tyme was;
Ffor to hont a dere
Y trow hes hope was.
3 As he rode, he houer-
toke yn the wey
A tannar off Dantre,
yn a queynte araye.
4 Blake kow-heydes sat he apon,
the hornys heyng be seyde;
The kyng low and had god game
to se the tannar reyde.
5 Howre kyng bad hes men abeyde,
and he welde sper of hem the wey;
'Yffe Y may here eney now tythyng,
Y schall net to yow saye.'
6 Howre kyng prekyd and seyde,
Ser, God the saffe!
The tannar seyde,
Well mot yow ffare!
7 'God ffellow,' seyde yowre kyng,
'offe on thyiig Y þe pray;
To Drayton Baset well Y reyde,
wyche ys the wey?'
8 That can Y tell the
ffro hens þat Y stonde;
When þow comest to the galow-tre,
torne vpon þe lyft honde.'
9 'Gramercy, ffellow,' seyde owre kyng,
'withowtyn eney wone,
I schall prey the lord Baset
thanke the sone.
10 'God ffellow,' seyde owre kyng,
'reyde þow with me
Tell Y com to Drayton Baset,
Now Y het se.'
11 'Nay, be mey ffeyt,'
seyde the barker thoo,
'Thow may sey Y were a ffole,
and Y dyd so.
12 'I hast yn mey wey as well
as þow hast yn theyne;
Reyde fforthe and seke they wey;
þi hors ys better nar meyne.'
13 The tanner seyde,
What maner man ar ye?
'A preker abowt,' seyd þe kyng,
'yn maney a contre.'
14 Than spake the tanner,
ffoll scrodeley ayen;
Y had a brother vowsed the same,
tell he cowde never the[n].
15 Than yowre kyng
smotley gan smeyle:
'Y prey the, ffelow,
reyde with me a meyle.'
16 'What, devell!' quod the tanner,
'art þou owt off they wet?
Y most horn to mey deynere,
ffor I am ffastyng yet.'
17 'Good ffelow,' seyde owre kyng,
'Care þe not ffor no mete;
Þou schalt haffe mete ynow to neyȝt,
and yeffe þou welt ette.'
18 The tanner toke gret skorne of hem,
and sware be Creystys pyne,
Y trow Y hafe more money yn mey pors
nar thow hast yn theyne.
19 'Wenest thow Y well be owt on neyȝt?
nay, and God beffore;
Was Y neuer owt a-neyt
sen Y was bore.'
20 The tanner lokyd a bake tho;
the heydes began to ffall;
He was war of the keynges men,
where they cam reydyng all.
21 Thes ys a theffe, thowt the tanner,
Y prey to God geffe hem care;
He well haffe mey hors, mey heydes,
and all mey chaffare.
22 'Ffor ffeleyschepe,' seyde the tannar,
'y[e]t well Y reyde with the;
Y wot, ware Y mete with the affterward,
thow mast do as meche ffor me.'
23 'God amar[sey],' seyde owre kyng,
'withowt eney wone,
Y schall prey þe lord Baset
to thanke the sone.'
24 Owre kyng seyde, What now tydyng
herest [þou] as þou [dost] ryd?
I wolde ffayne wot,
ffor þow reydest weyde.
25 'Y know [no] now teytheyng,' þe tanner seyde,
herke and þou schalt here;
Off al the chaffar that Y know,
kow-heydys beyt dere.'
26 Owre keyng seyde, On theyng
on mey loffe Y the prey;
What herest sey be the lord Baset
yn thes contrey?
27 'I know hem not,' seyde the tanner,
'with hem Y hafe lytyll to don;
Wolde he neuer bey of me
clot-lether to clowt with schon.'
28 Howre kyng seyde, Y loffe the well,
of on thyng I þe praye;
Thow hast harde hes servantes speke,
what wolde þey saye?
29 'Ye, ffor God,' seyde the tanner,
'þat tell Y can;
Thay sey thay leke hem well,
ffor he ys a god man.'
30 Thos they reyd together talkyng,
for soyt Y yow tell,
Tell he met þe lord Baset;
on kneys downe fey ffell.
31 Alas, the tanner thowt,
the kyng Y leue thes be;
Y schall be honged, well Y wot,
at men may me se.
32 He had no meynde of his hode nor cape
nere a dell [more],
Al ffor drede off hes leyffe
he wende to haffe lore.
33 The tanner wolde a stole awey,
whyle he began to speke;
Howre kyng had yever an ey on hem,
that he meyt not skape.
34 'God ffelow', seyd owre kyng,
'with me thow most abeyde,
Ffor þow and Y
most an hontyng reyde.'
35 Whan they com to Kyng Chas,
meche game þye saye;
Howre kyng seyde, Ffelow, what schall Y do,
my hors ys so hey?
36 'God ffelow,' [seyde owre kyng,]
lend þow me theyne,
. . .
and hafe here meyne.'
37 Tho the tannar leyt do[w]ne
and cast a downe hes heydys;
Howre kyng was yn hes sadell,
no leyngger he beydes.
38 Alas, þeyn the tanner thowt,
with mey hors he well reyde awey;
Y well after,
to get hem and Y may.
39 He welde not leffe his heydys beheynde
ffor no theyng ...;
He cast them yn the kynges schadyll;
Þat was a neys seyte.
40 Þo he sat aboffe them,
as Y [y]ouw saye,
He prekyd ffast after,
and ffond þe redey wey.
41 The hors lokyd abowt hem,
and sey on euery seyde
. . .
the kow-hornes blake and wheyte.
42 The hors went he had bore
þe deuell on hes bake;
The hors prekyd as he was wode,
het mestoret to spor hem not.
43 The barker cleynt on hem ffast,
he was sore afferde ffor to ffall;
. . .
. . .
44 The kyng lowhe [and had gode game,]
and was glad to ffollow þe chas;
Lest þe tanner wolde bere hem downe
yette he was agast.
45 The hors sped hem sweythyli,
he sped hem wonderley ffast;
Ayen a bow of an oke
the tanneres hed he brast.
46 With a stombellyng as he rode,
þe tanner downe he cast;
The kyng lowhe and had god game,
and seyde, Ser, þou rydyst to ffast.
47 The kyng lowhe and had god game,
and sware be Sent John,
Seche another horsman
say Y neuere none.
48 Owre kyng lowhe and had god bord,
and sware be Sent Jame,
Y most nedys lawhe,
and thow were mey dame.
49 'Y bescro the same son,'
seyde the barker tho,
'þat seche a bord welde haffe
to se hes dame so wo.'
50 When her hontyng was ydo,
þey changyd hors agen;
Þo the barker had hes howyn,
þeyrof he was ffayne.
51 'God a marsey,' seyd owre kyng,
'of þey serueyse to daye;
Yeffe thow hafe awt to do with me,
or owt to saye,
52 'They ffrende schall Y yeffor be,
Be God [þat] ys bet on;
. . .
. . .
53 'God a marsey,' seyde þe barker þo,
'thow semyst a ff elow god;
Yeffe Y met the yn Dantre,
þow schalt dreynke, be [þe] rode.'
54 'Be mey ffeyt,' seyde owre kyng,
'or els were Y to blame,
Yeffe Y met the yn Lecheffelde,
þow schalt hafe the same.'
55 Þus they rode talkyng togeder
to Drayton Hall;
Tho the barker toke hes leffe
of the lordes all.
56 Owre kyng comand þe barker
yn that tyde
A c. s'. yn hes pors,
to mend hes kow-heydys.
57 There owre kyng and the barker
partyd ffeyre atwyn;
God þat set yn heffen so hey
breyng os owt of sen!
Explycyt þe Kyng and the Barker.
12. lawhe all. For low, cf. 43; lowhe, 441, 463, 471, 481.
64. ffare. Read, perhaps, with rhyme, haffe.
71, 151. yowre = owre: cf. yever, yeffor, 333, 521.
92. eney woyt: see 232.
93. they.
111. be meyt; cf. 541.
121. I haffe hast?
141, 251, 311, 331, 371, 381, 462. thanner, thannar (the th caught from the preceding the).
143. yow (struck through) vowsed (that is, used).
192. beffore.
223. ynot: methe.
251. no has been inserted because it occurs in the other versions, but now (new), simply, makes some sense.
262. as mey. Perhaps, as thow me loffe.
274. schoys.
282. of 1.
341,3. God ffelow with me thow most abeyde seyd owre kyng.
382. he well reyde awey with mey hors.
391. le leffe.
392. Words seem to have dropped out at the end.
42. The rhyme might be restored thus:
The hors went the deuell
on hes bake he had bore;
The hors prekyd as he was wode,
het mestoret not hem to spor.
442,4. yeffe he was agast lest þe tanner wolde bere hem downe.
453. a noke.
454. thanneres: barst.
482. Jane.
483. nedyst.
504. of ffayne.
551. to gederff.
II. King Edward the Fourth & a Tanner of Tamworth
A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historic, betweene King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tam worth, etc.
a. London, John Danter, 1596, Bodleian Library, 4o, C. 39. Art. Seld.
b. London, W. White, 1613, Corpus Christi College Library, X. G. 2. 11. 4th tract.
1 In summer-time, when leaues grou greene,
and blossoms bud on euery tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
some pastime for to see.
2 With hawke and hound he made him bound,
with home and eke with bow;
Toward Drayton Basset he tooke his way,
whosoeuer doth it know.
3 But as our king on his way rode forth,
by eight a clocke of the day,
He was ware of a tanner of mery Tamworth,
was in a quaint aray.
4 A good russet coat the tanner had on,
he thought it mickle pride;
He rode on a mare cost foure shillings,
and vnder him a good cow-hide.
5 A paire of rough mittens the tanner did weare,
his hood was buckled vnder his chin;
'Yonder comes a good fellow,' said our king,
'that cares not whether he lose or win.'
6 The tanner came singing on his mare,
with one so merry a note;
He sung out of tune, he was past care,
he had no neede to grease his throte.
7 'Stand you here still, my lordes now,
vnder the greene wood spray,
And I will ride to yonder fellow,
to wit what he will say.
8 'God speede, good fellow,' said our king;
'thou art welcom, sir,' quoth he;
'Which is the way to Drayton Basset,
I pray thee tell to me.'
9 'Marry, that I will,' quoth the tanner,
'right as here I stand;
The next paire of gallows that thou comes to,
turne in vpon thy right hand.'
10 'It is an vnready way,' said our king,
'I tell you, so mote I thee;
I pray you show me the readiest way
the towne that I may see.'
11 'Go play the great jauel!' quoth the tanner,
'I hold thee out of thy wit;
All day haue I ridden on Brocke, my mare,
and I am fasting yet.'
12 'Why, we will to the towne,' said our king,
'and of dainties [we will none lacke];
We will eate and drinke and fare of the best,
and I will pay for the shot.'
13 'God haue mercy for nothing,' quoth the tanner,
'thou paiest for none of mine,
For I haue as many nobles in my purse
as thou hast pence in thine.'
14 'God giue you ioy of yours,' said our king,
'and send thee well to priefe;'
The tanner would faine haue beene away,
for he wend he had beene a thiefe.
15 'What art thou, good fellow?' quoth the tanner,
'of thee I am in great feare,
For the clothes that thou wearest on thy back
are not for a lord to weare.'
16 'I neuer stole them,' said our king,
'I tell you, sir, by the rood;'
'No, thou plaiest as many an vnthrift doth,
thou standst in the mids of thy good.'
17 'What tidings heare you,' said our king,
'as you ride f arre and neare?'
'I heare no tidings,' quoth the tanner,
'but that cow-hides are deare.'
18 'Cow-hides? cow-hides?' then said our king,
'I know not what they be;'
'Lo, here thou maist see one;' quoth the tanner,
I here lyeth one vnder me.
19 'Knowst thou not a cow-hide,' quoth the tanner,
'and hast gone so long to schoole?
If euer thou coine to dwell in the country,
thou wilt be made a foole.'
20 'What craftsman are you?' said our king,
'I pray you tell me now;'
'I am a barker,' quoth the tanner,
['What craftsman art thou?']
21 I am a courtier,' said our king,
'forth of seruice I am worne;
Full faine I would be your prentise,' he said,
'your cunning for to learne.'
22 'Marrie, God forbid,' quoth the tanner,
'that such a prentise I should haue;
He wold spend me more than he would get
by fortie shillings a yere.'
23 One thing would I wit,' said our king,
'if you will not seeme strange;
Thou my horse be better than your mare,
with you faine would I change.'
24 'Nay, there thou liest yet,' quoth the tanner,
'by Christ, thou shalt abide;
For, if thou haue Brocke, my mare,
thou gets not my good cow-hide.'
25 'I will not haue it,' said our king,
'I tell thee, so mote I thee;
I will not carrie it away
though you would giue it me.'
26 'Why, then we must change,' quoth the tanner,
'as needs me thinke thou woot;
But if you haue Brocke, my mare,
I will looke to haue some boote.'
27 'That were against reason,' said our king,
'I tell you, so mote I thee;
My horse is much better than your mare,
and that you may well see.'
28 'Avise a vous now,' sayd the tanner,
'whether thou wilt or no,
For my mare is gentle and will not kicke,
but softlie she will go.
29 'And thy horse is vnhappie and vnwieldie,
[and will neuer goe in rest,]
But alwaies skipping here and there,
and therefore my mare is best.'
30 'What boot will you haue?' then said our king,
'tell me now in this tide;'
'Neuer a single pennie,' quoth the tanner,
'but a noble of gold so red.'
31 'Why, there is your noble,' said our king,
'well paid looke that you be;'
'I would haue sworne on a book,' quoth the tanner,
'thou hadst not one pennie.'
32 Now hath the king the tanner's mare,
she is nothing faire, fat nor round,
And the tanner hath the king's good steede,
the saddle is worth fortie pound.
33 The tanner tooke vp the good cowhide,
off the ground where he stood,
He threw it vpon the king's steede,
in the saddle that was so good.
34 The steed stared vpon the homes,
vnder the greene wood spraie;
He had weende the diuell of hell had bin come,
to carrie him thence away.
35 The tanner looked as fast on the stirrops,
astonied sore he was;
He meruailed greatly in his minde
whether they were gold or bras.
36 'Help me [vp], good fellow,' quoth the tanner,
'lightly that I were gone;
My wife and my neighbours more and lesse
will say I am a gentleman.'
37 The king tooke the tanner by the leg,
and lift him vp a loft;
The tanner girded out a good round fart,
his belly it was so soft.
38 'You make great waste,' said our king,
'your curtesie is but small;'
Thy horse is so high,' quoth the tanner againe,
I feare me of a fall.'
39 But when the tanner was in the saddle
the steede began to blow and blast,
And against the roote of an old tree
the tanner downe he cast.
40 'Abide, good fellow,' said our king,
'ye make ouer great hast;'
'Thou shalt haue thy horse, with a vengeance, againe,
for my necke is well nigh brast.'
41 'Why then we must change,' said our king,
'as me thinke needs thou woot;
But if you haue your mare againe
I will looke to haue some boote.'
42 What boote wilt thou haue?' quoth the tanner,
'tell me in this stound;
'Neuer a groat nor pennie,' said our king,
'but of thy gold twentie pound.'
43 'Nay, here is thy noble,' quoth the tanner again,
'and Christ's blessing and mine;
Yea, here is twentie good groats more,
goe drinke them at the wine.'
44 'So mote I thee,' then said our king,
'it shall not slacke my woe;
For when a noble is in small monie
full soone it is agoe.'
45 'Dost thou loue to keepe gold?' quoth the tanner,
the king answered and said, Ye;
' Then I would thou were my neere kinsman,
for I thinke thou wilt thriue and thee.'
46 Now hath the tanner Brocke, his mare,
and vnder him his good cowhide,
Our noble king his horse againe,
which was a well faire steede.
47 'Now farewell, good fellow,' quoth the tanner,
'I will bide no longer with thee;'
'Tarrie yet a little while,' said our king,
'and some pastime we will see.'
48 Our king set a bugle to his mouth,
and blew a blast lowd and small;
Seuen score lords, knights, squires and yeomen
came riding ouer a dale.
49 'Now out alas!' quoth the tanner,
'that euer I saw this tide;
Thou art a strong thiefe, yonder be thy fellowes,
will haue my mare and my cowhide.'
50 'They are no theeues,' then said our king,
'I tell you, so mote I thee;
It is my lord of Drayton Basset
is come a hunting to me.'
51 But when before the king they came,
they fell downe on their knees;
The tanner had leuer than a thousand pound
he had beene from their companies.
52 'A coller! a coller!' our king gan call,
quoth the tanner, It will breede sorrow;
For after a coller commeth a halter,
I trow I shall be hangd tomorrow.
53 'Be not afraid, tanner,' said our king,
'I tell thee, so mote I thee;
Lo, here I make thee the best esquier
in all the North Countrie.
54 'And Plumton Parke I will giue thee,
and lacie in [t]his tide
It is worth three hundred pounds by yeare
to prepare thy good cowhide.'
55 'God a mercie, good fellow,' quoth the tanner,
'for this that thou hast done;
The next time thou comest to Tamworth town,
thou shalt haue clouting-leather for thy shon.'
56 Now God aboue speed well the plough,
and keepe vs from care and woe,
Vntill euerie tanner in [t]his countrie
[doe ride a hunting so.]
A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historic, betvveene King Edward the fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as he rode vpon a time with his nobles a (b, on) hunting toward Drayton Basset:
Verie pleasant and merrie to read.
a. Printed at London by John Danter, 1596. (8 pages.)
b. At London, printed by W. White, 1613. (8 pages.)
b has for a heading The King and the Tanner.
a. 34. quaint of aray.
111. play thee.
122. Defect supplied from b.
204. Cut off; supplied from b.
262. thou wilt. Cf. 412.
292, 564. Cut off; supplied from b.
431. quath.
b. 31. as the.
32. eight of the.
34. quaint of ray.
61. tanner he.
71. here wanting.
84. tell it me.
94. vp vpon.
102. so might.
111. play thee.
122. we will none lacke.
131. Godamercy.
152. I stand.
164. middes.
184. lies.
193. thou happen.
204. what craft-man art thou.
223. than I should.
231. I wish.
232. thou wilt.
233. then thy.
234. would I faine.
252, 272, 441, 502. mought.
254. thou wouldst.
262. thinkes thou wilt.
263. if thou.
273. than thy.
292. and will neuer goe in rest.
311. Why heere: said the.
313. would asworne.
333. king's faire steed.
352. sore that he.
361. me up.
383. so hie.
404. welnie.
412. mee thinkes: thou wilt.
452. yea.
453. wert.
462. and wanting.
472. will no longer abide.
482. and he.
501. then wanting.
511. when they all before the king came.
513. had rather.
532. might.
534. that is in the.
542. Jackie in this.
563. Till: in this.
564. doe ride a hunting so.
III. King Henry II and the Miller of Mansfield
a. 'Kinge and Miller,' Percy Manuscript, p. 235; Hales and Furnivall, II, 147.
b. The Pleasant History of the Miller of Mansfield, in Sherwood, and Henry the Second, King of England, etc., Wood, 254, iv. Small octavo of twelve pages. Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, T. Vere, and William Gilbertson, 1655.
1 Henry, our royall king, wold goe a huntinge,
To the greene fforrest soe pleasant and fayre;
To haue the harts chased, the daintye does tripping,
To merry Sherwood his nobles repayre;
Hauke and hound was vnbound, all things prepared
For the same to the game with good regard.
2 All a longe summers day rode the king pleasantlye,
With all his princes and nobles eche one,
Chasing the hart and hind and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the darke euening inforced them turne home.
Then at last, ryding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood in the darke night.
3 Wandering thus wearilye, all alone vp and downe,
With a rude miller he mett att the last;
Asking the ready way vnto fayre Nottingham,
'Sir,' quoth the miller,' I meane not to iest,
Yett I thinke what I thinke; truth for to say,
You doe not lightlye goe out of your way.'
4 'Why, what dost thou thinke of me?' quoth our king merrily,
'Passing thy iudgment vpon me soe breefe.'
'Good faith,' qwoth the miller, 'I meane not to flatter thee,
I gesse thee to bee some gentleman-theefe;
Stand thee backe in the darke! light not adowne,
Lest I presentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e!'
5 'Thou doest abuse me much,' quoth our king, 'saying thus;
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke.'
'Thou hast not,' qwoth the miller, 'a groat in thy pursse;
All thine inheritance hanges on thy backe.'
'I haue gold to discharge for that I call;
If itt be forty pence, I will pay all.'
6 'If thou beest a true man,' then said the miller,
'I sweare by my tole-dish I'le lodge thee all night.'
'Heere's my hand,' quoth our king, 'that was I euer.'
'Nay, soft,' quoth the miller, 'thou mayst be a sprite;
Better I'le know thee ere hands I will shake;
With none but honest men hands will I take.'
7 Thus they went all alonge unto the millers house,
Where they were seething of puddings and souce.
The miller first entered in, then after went the king;
Neuer came he in soe smoakye a house.
'Now,' quoth hee, 'let me see heere what you are;'
Quoth our king, Looke you[r] fill, and doe not spare.
8 'I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest fac[e];
With my sonne Richard this night thou shalt lye.'
Qwoth his wiffe, By my troth, it is a good hansome yout[h];
Yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye.
Art thou not a runaway? I pray thee, youth, tell;
Show vs thy pasport and all shalbe well.
9 Then our king presentlye, making lowe curtesie,
With his hatt in his hand, this he did say:
I haue noe pasport, nor neuer was seruitor,
But a poore courtyer, rode out of the way;
And for your kindnesse now offered to me,
I will requite it in euerye degree.
10 Then to the miller his wiffe whispered secretlye,
Saing, It seemeth the youth is of good kin,
Both by his apparell and by his manners;
To turne him out, certainely it were a great sin.
'Yea,' quoth hee, 'you may see hee hath some grace,
When as he speaks to his betters in place.'
11 'Well,' quoth the millers wiffe, 'younge man, welcome heer!
And tho I say 't, well lodged shalt thou be;
Fresh straw I will lay vpon your bed soe braue,
Good browne hempen sheetes likwise,' quoth shee.
'I,' quoth the goodman, ' and when that is done,
Thou shalt lye [with] noe worse then our owne sonne.'
12 'Nay first,' quoth Richard, 'good fellowe, tell me true,
Hast thou noe creepers in thy gay hose?
Art thou not troubled with the scabbado?'
'Pray you,' quoth the king, 'what things are those?'
'Art thou not lowsye nor scabbed?' qwoth hee;
'If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with me.'
13 This caused our king suddenly to laugh most hartilye
Till the teares trickled downe from his eyes.
Then to there supper were the sett orderlye,
To hott bag-puddings and good apple-pyes;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle,
Which did about the bord merrilye troule.
14 'Heere,' quoth the miller, good fellowe, I'le drinke to thee,
And to all the courtnolls that curteous bee.'
'I pledge thee,' quoth our king, 'and thanke thee heartilye
For my good welcome in euerye degree;
And heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne.'
'Doe then,' sales Richard, 'and quicke let it come.'
15 'Wiffe,' quoth the miller, 'feitch me forth light-foote,
That wee of his sweetnesse a litle may tast.'
A faire venson pastye shee feiched forth presentlye.
'Eate,' quoth the miller, 'but first, make noe wast;
Heer is dainty lightfoote.' 'Infaith,' quoth our king,
'I neuer before eate of soe dayntye a thinge.'
16 'Iwis,' said Richard, 'noe dayntye att all it is,
For wee doe eate of it euerye day.'
'In what place,' sayd our king, 'may be bought likto th[is?]'
'Wee neuer pay peennye for it, by my fay;
From merry Sherwood wee feitch it home heere;
Now and then we make bold with our kings deere.'
17 'Then I thinke,' quoth our king, 'that it is venison.'
'Eche foole,' quoth Richard, 'full well may see that;
Neuer are we without two or three in the rooffe,
Verry well fleshed and exellent ffatt.
But I pray thee say nothing where-ere thou goe;
We wold not for two pence the king shold it know.'
18 'Doubt not,' said our king, 'my promised secresye;
The king shall neuer know more on 't for mee.'
A cupp of lambes woole they dranke vnto him,
And to their bedds the" past presentlye.
The nobles next morning went all vp and downe
For to seeke the king in euerye towne.
19 At last, att the millers house soone the did spye him plaine,
As he was mounting vpon his faire steede;
To whome the" came presentlye, falling downe on their knees,
Which made the millers hart wofullye bleed.
Shaking and quaking before him he stood,
Thinking he shold be hanged by the rood.
20 The k[ing] perceiuing him fearfully tremblinge,
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he said;
The miller downe did fall crying before them all,
Doubtinge the king wold cut of his head.
But he, his kind curtesie for to requite,
Gaue him great liuing, and dubd him a knight.
21 When as our noble king came from Nottingam,
And with his nobles in Westminster lay,
Recounting the sports and the pastime thé had tane
In this late progresse along on the way,
Of them all, great and small, hee did protest
The miller of Mansfeild liked him best.
22 'And now, my lords,' quoth the king, 'I am determined,
Against St. Georges next sumptuous feast,
That this old miller, our youngest confirmed knight,
With his sonne Richard, shalbe both my guest;
For in this merryment it is my desire
To talke with this iollye knight and the younge squier.'
23 When as the noble lords saw the kings merriment,
Thé were right ioyfull and glad in their harts;
A pursiuant the sent straight on this busines,
The which oftentimes vsed those parts.
When he came to the place where he did dwell,
His message merrilye then he did tell.
24 'God saue your worshippe,' then said the messenger,
'And grant your ladye her owne harts desire;
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happinesse,
That sweet younge gentleman and gallant squier!
Our king greets you well, and thus doth say;
You must come to the court on St. Georges day.
25 'Therfore in any case fayle not to be in place.'
'I-wis,' quoth the miller, 'it is an odd iest!
What shold wee doe there?' he sayd, 'infaith I am halfe afraid.'
'I doubt,' quoth Richard, 'to be hanged att the least.'
'Nay,' quoth the messenger, 'you doe mistake;
Our king prepares a great feast for your sake.' "
26 'Then,' said the miller, 'now by my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worshipp full well:
Hold! there is three farthings to quite thy great gentleness
For these happy tydings -which thou dost me tell.
Let me see! hearest thou me? tell to our king,
Wee 'le wayte on his mastershipp in euerye thing.'
27 The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye,
And making many leggs, tooke their reward,
And takeing then his leaue with great humilitye
To the king's court againe hee repayred,
Showing vnto his Grace in euerye degree
The king's most liberall giffts and great bountye.
28 When hee was gone away, thus can the miller say;
Heere comes expences and charges indeed!
Now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all wee haue;
For of new garments wee haue great need.
Of horsses and serving-men wee must haue store,
With bridles and sadles and twentye things more.
29 'Tushe, Sir John,' qwoth his wiffe, 'neither doe frett nor frowne,
You shall bee att noe more charges for mee;
For I will turne and trim vp my old russett gowne,
With euerye thing else as fine as may bee;
And on our mill-horsses full swift wee will ryd,
With pillowes and pannells as wee shall provyde.'
30 In this most statelye sort the rod vnto the court,
Their lusty sonne Richard formost of all,
Who sett vp by good hap a cockes fether in his cappe;
And soe the ietted downe towards the kings hall,
The merry old miller with his hands on his side,
His wiffe like Maid Marryan did mince at that tyde.
31 The king and his nobles, that hard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant knight with this braue traine,
'Welcome, Sir Knight,' quoth hee, 'with this your gay lady!
Good Sir lohn Cockle, once welcome againe!
And soe is this squier of courage soe free.'
Quoth Dicke, A botts on you 1 doe you know me?
32 Quoth our king gentlye, How shall I forgett thee?
Thou wast my owne bed-fellow; well that I wot.'
'But I doe thinke on a tricke,' 'Tell me, pray thee, Dicke!'
'How with farting we made the bed hott.'
'Thou horson [un]happy knaue,' the[n] quoth the knight,
'Speake cleanly to our [king,] or else goe shite!'
33 The king and his councellors hartilye laugh at this,
While the king tooke them by the hand.
With ladyes and their maids, like to the queene of spades
The millers wiffe did most orderlye stand,
A milkemaids curtesye at euerye word;
And downe these folkes were set to the bord.
34 Where the king royally, with princely maiestye,
Sate at his dinner with ioy and delight;
When he had eaten well, to jesting then hee fell,
Taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the knight.
1 Heere's to you both! ' he sayd, in ale, wine, and beere,
Thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere.'
35 Quoth Sir Iohn Cockle, I'le pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottingam-shire.
'But then,' said our king, 'I thinke on a thinge;
Some of your lightfoote I wold we had heere.'
'Ho, ho!' quoth Richard, 'full well I may say it;
It's knauerye to eate it and then to bewray it.'
36 'What! art thou angry?' quoth our king merrilye,
'Infaith I take it verry vnkind;
I thought thou woldest pledg me in wine or ale heartil[y].'
'Yee are like to stay,' quoth Dicke, 'till I haue dind.
You feed vs with twatling dishes soe small;
Zounds I a blacke pudding is better then all.'
37 'I, marry,' quoth our king, 'that were a dainty e thing,
If wee cold gett one heere for to eate.'
With that, Dicke straight arose, and plucket one out of his h[ose,]
Which with heat of his breech began for to sweate.
The king made profer to snatch it away;
'It's meate for your master, good sir, you shall stay!'
38 Thus with great merriment was the time wholy spent,
And then the ladyes prepared to dance.
Old Sir lohn Cockle and Richarrf incontinent
vnto this practise the kin^r did advance;
Where with the ladyes such sport thè did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their heads ake.
39 Many thankes for their paines the king did giue them then,
Asking young Richard if he wold be wed:
'Amongst these ladyes faire, tell me which liketh thee.'
Quoth hee, lugg Grumball with the red head,
Shee's my loue; shee's my liffe; her will I wed;
Shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead.
40 Then Sir Iohn Cockle the king called vnto him;
And of merry Sherwood made him ouerseer,
And gaue him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye:
'But now take heede you steale noe more of my deere,
And once a quarter let's heare haue your vew;
And thus, Sir lohn Cockle, I bid thee adew!'
a. 56. 40.
71. into.
72. seeding.
173. 2 or 3.
176. 2.
181. saiy.
263. 3.
286. 20tye.
292. charges of.
316. abotts.
343. resting, b, jesting.
361. hungry, b, angry.
403. 300li.
b. 11. would ride.
13. hart: and dainty.
14. Unto.
24. him turn.
26. late in dark.
34. miller, your way you have lost.
36. not likely.
41, 51, 131. the king.
44. but some.
46. light thee not down.
46. Lest that: knock thy.
52. I lack.
53. one groat.
55. discharge all that.
66. I will.
71. unto.
72. seething.
73. after him the.
83. good wanting.
84. for to.
85. prethee.
86. Shew me.
92. thus he.
94. of my.
95. here offered.
102. this youth's.
103. and eke by.
105. Yes.
106. When he doth speak.
113. wil have laid on.
114. hempten.
116. with no.
122. within.
123. Or art.
124. I pray, quoth.
125. or.
134. With a hot bag-pudding.
141. I drink thee.
142. courtnols where ever they be.
143. Ile pledge you: thank you.
144. For your.
145. to your.
146. Do so, quoth Richard, but.
153. pasty then brought she forth.
154. but fir.
155. then said our.
171. said our.
172. said Richard.
174. wondrous fat.
175. But prethee.
181. not then said.
183. him then.
186. seek out.
191. they espy'd.
196. should have been.
201. fearfull and.
204. would have cut off.
205. But his kind curtesie there to.
206. him a living.
211. came home.
213. and pastime.
214. this his progresse along by.
215. this he.
216. Mansfields sport.
223. our last.
224. both be my guests.
226. with this.
231. kings pleasantnesse.
233. there was sent: on the.
234. Which had many times been in.
236. message orderly.
242. owne wanting.
244. gallant young.
245. he greets you all.
252. this is.
253. said, faith.
254. to be wanting.
263. here's: great wanting.
266. to your,
276. in each.
276. gift: great wanting.
281. When as: thus did.
283. we must: though wee sell.
292. charges for.
294. else wanting.
301. rode they.
305. hand,
312. his brave.
321. how should.
322. mine own.
323. doe wanting: me that prethee Dick.
324. How we: did make.
325. happie: then,
326. our king.
331. laught.
332. both by.
334. so orderly.
336. the folks were sate at the side-board,
341. in princely.
343. jesting then they,
345. wine, ale.
346. you all for your country cheere.
353. I doe think.
356. 'Tis.
361. Why, art thou angry.
363. ale and wine.
364. Y' are.
372. If a man could get one hot.
373. hose.
374. for wanting.
376. made a.
376. 'T is: you must.
385. Here with,
386. their hearts.
391. did the king give,
393. ladies free.
395. she will.
406. bid you.
b is printed with the long lines broken into two.
Additions and Corrections
P. 74 f. Similar tales: Sébillot, Contes pop. de la Haute-Bretagne, II, 149 f.; Luzel, Contes pop. de la Basse-Bretagne, I, 259.
Supplementary
79 b, 2d st. Read 26.
81 b, 11. Read play thee, great.