The Sources and Analogues of 'A Midsummer night's Dream' by Compiled by Frank Sidgwick

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Supper being ended, a great posset was brought forth: at this Robin
Good-fellow's teeth did water, for it looked so lovely that he could not
keep from it. To attain to his wish, he did turn himself into a bear: both
men and women (seeing a bear amongst them) ran away, and left the whole
posset to Robin Good-fellow. He quickly made an end of it, and went away
without his money; for the sport he had was better to him than any money
whatsoever. The fear that the guests were in did cause such a smell, that
the bridegroom did call for perfumes; and instead of a posset, he was fain
to make use of cold beer.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A TAPSTER FOR NICKING HIS POTS

There was a tapster, that with his pots' smallness, and with frothing of
his drink, had got a good sum of money together. This nicking of the pots
he would never leave, yet divers times he had been under the hand of
authority, but what money soever he had [to pay] for his abuses, he would
be sure (as they all do) to get it out of the poor man's pot again. Robin
Good-fellow, hating such knavery, put a trick upon him in this manner.

Robin shaped himself like to the tapster's brewer, and came and demanded
twenty pounds which was due to him from the tapster. The tapster, thinking
it had been his brewer, paid him the money, which money Robin gave to the
poor of that parish before the tapster's face. The tapster praised his
charity very much, and said that God would bless him the better for such
good deeds: so after they had drank one with the other, they parted.

Some four days after the brewer himself came for his money: the tapster
told him that it was paid, and that he had a quittance from him to show.
Hereat the brewer did wonder, and desired to see the quittance. The tapster
fetched him a writing, which Robin Good-fellow had given him instead of a
quittance, wherein was written as followeth, which the brewer read to him--

I, Robin Good-fellow, true man and honest man, do acknowledge to have
received of Nick and Froth, the cheating tapster, the sum of twenty
pounds, which money I have bestowed (to the tapster's content) among
the poor of the parish, out of whose pockets this aforesaid tapster had
picked the aforesaid sum, not after the manner of foisting, but after
his excellent skill of bombasting[11], or a pint for a penny.

If now thou wilt go hang thyself,
Then take thy apron strings;
It doth me good when such foul birds
Upon the gallows sings.
_Per me_ ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW.

At this the tapster swore Walsingham; but for all his swearing, the brewer
made him pay him his twenty pounds.

HOW KING OBREON[12] CALLED ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW TO DANCE

King Obreon, seeing Robin Good-fellow do so many honest and merry tricks,
called him one night out of his bed with these words, saying--

Robin, my son, come quickly, rise:
First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes;
For thou must go with me to-night,
To see, and taste of my delight.
Quickly come, my wanton son;
'Twere time our sports were now begun.

Robin, hearing this, rose and went to him. There were with King Obreon a
many fairies, all attired in green silk; all these, with King Obreon, did
welcome Robin Good-fellow into their company. Obreon took Robin by the hand
and led him a dance: their musician was little Tom Thumb; for he had an
excellent bag-pipe made of a wren's quill, and the skin of a Greenland
louse: this pipe was so shrill, and so sweet, that a Scottish pipe compared
to it, it would no more come near it, than a Jew's-trump doth to an Irish
harp. After they had danced, King Obreon spake to his son, Robin
Good-fellow, in this manner--

When e'er you hear my piper blow,
From thy bed see that thou go;
For nightly you must with us dance,
When we in circles round do prance.
I love thee, son, and by the hand
I carry thee to Fairy Land,
Where thou shalt see what no man knows:
Such love thee King Obreon owes.

So marched they in good manner (with their piper before) to the Fairy Land:
there did King Obreon show Robin Good-fellow many secrets, which he never
did open to the world.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW WAS WONT TO WALK IN THE NIGHT

Robin Good-fellow would many times walk in the night with a broom on his
shoulder, and cry "chimney sweep," but when any one did call him, then
would he run away laughing _ho, ho, hoh!_ Sometimes he would counterfeit a
beggar, begging very pitifully, but when they came to give him an alms, he
would run away, laughing as his manner was. Sometimes would he knock at
men's doors, and when the servants came, he would blow out the candle, if
they were men; but if they were women, he would not only put out their
light, but kiss them full sweetly, and then go away as his fashion was,
_ho, ho, hoh!_ Oftentimes would he sing at a door like a singing man, and
when they did come to give him his reward, he would turn his back and
laugh. In these humours of his he had many pretty songs, which I will sing
as perfect as I can. For his chimney-sweeper's humours he had these songs:
the first is to the tune of _I have been a fiddler these fifteen years_.

Black I am from head to foot,
And all doth come by chimney soot:
Then maidens, come and cherish him
That makes your chimneys neat and trim.

Horns have I store, but all at my back;
My head no ornament doth lack:
I give my horns to other men,
And ne'er require them again.

Then come away, you wanton wives,
That love your pleasures as your lives:
To each good woman I'll give two,
Or more, if she think them too few.

Then would he change his note and sing this following, to the tune of _What
care I how fair she be?_[13]

Be she blacker than the stock,
If that thou wilt make her fair,
Put her in a cambric smock,
Buy her paint and flaxen hair.

One your carrier brings to town
Will put down your city-bred;
Put her on a broker's gown,
That will sell her maiden-head.

Comes your Spaniard, proud in mind,
He'll have the first cut, or else none:
The meek Italian comes behind,
And your Frenchman picks the bone.

Still she trades with Dutch and Scot,
Irish, and the German tall,
Till she gets the thing you wot;
Then her end's an hospital.

A song to the tune of _The Spanish Pavin_[14].

When Virtue was a country maid,
And had no skill to set up trade,
She came up with a carrier's jade,
And lay at rack and manger.
She whiffed her pipe, she drunk her can,
The pot was ne'er out of her span;
She married a tobacco man,
A stranger, a stranger.

They set up shop in Honey Lane,
And thither flies did swarm amain,
Some from France, some from Spain,
Train'd in by scurvy panders.
At last this honey pot grew dry,
Then both were forced for to fly
To Flanders, to Flanders.

Another to the tune of _The Coranto_.

I peeped in at the Woolsack,
O, what a goodly sight did I
Behold at midnight chime!
The wenches were drinking of mulled sack;
Each youth on his knee, that then did want
A year and a half of his time.
They leaped and skipped,
They kissed and they clipped,
And yet it was counted no crime.

The grocer's chief servant brought sugar,
And out of his leather pocket he pulled,
And culled some pound and a half;
For which he was suffered to smack her
That was his sweetheart, and would not depart,
But turned and lick'd the calf.
He rung her, and he flung her,
He kissed her, and he swung her,
And yet she did nothing but laugh.

Thus would he sing about cities and towns, and when any one called him, he
would change his shape, and go laughing _ho, ho, hoh!_ For his humours of
begging he used this song, to the tune of _The Jovial Tinker_[15].

Good people of this mansion,
Unto the poor be pleased
To do some good, and give some food,
That hunger may be eased.
My limbs with fire are burned,
My goods and lands defaced;
Of wife and child I am beguiled,
So much am I debased.
Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese, or butter,
Bacon, hemp, or flax;
Some pudding bring, or other thing:
My need doth make me ax[16].

I am no common beggar,
Nor am I skilled in canting:
You ne'er shall see a wench with me,
Such tricks in me are wanting.
I curse not if you give not,
But still I pray and bless you,
Still wishing joy, and that annoy
May never more possess you.
Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese or butter,
Bacon, hemp or flax;
Some pudding bring, or other thing,
My need doth make me ax.

When any came to relieve him, then would he change himself into some other
shape, and run laughing, _ho, ho, hoh!_ Then would he shape himself like to
a singing man; and at men's windows and doors sing civil and virtuous
songs, one of which I will sing to the tune of _Broom_[17].

If thou wilt lead a blest and happy life,
I will describe the perfect way:
First must thou shun all cause of mortal strife,
Against thy lusts continually to pray.
Attend unto God's word:
Great comfort 'twill afford;
'Twill keep thee from discord.
Then trust in God, the Lord,
for ever,
for ever;
And see in this thou persever.

So soon as day appeareth in the east
Give thanks to him, and mercy crave;
So in this life thou shalt be surely blest,
And mercy shalt thou find in grave.
The conscience that is clear
No horror doth it fear;
'Tis void of mortal care,
And never doth despair;
but ever,
but ever
Doth in the word of God persever.

Thus living, when thou drawest to thy end
Thy joys they shall much more increase,
For then thy soul, thy true and loving friend,
By death shall find a wished release
From all that caused sin,
In which it lived in;
For then it doth begin
Those blessed joys to win,
for ever,
for ever,
For there is nothing can them sever.

Those blessed joys which then thou shalt possess,
No mortal tongue can them declare:
All earthly joys, compared with this, are less
Than smallest mote to the world so fair.
Then is not that man blest
That must enjoy this rest?
Full happy is that guest
Invited to this feast,
that ever,
that ever
Endureth and is ended never.

When they opened the window or door, then would he run away laughing _ho,
ho, hoh!_ Sometimes would he go like a bellman in the night, and with many
pretty verses delight the ears of those that waked at his bell ringing: his
verses were these--

Maids in your smocks,
Look well to your locks,
And your tinder box,
Your wheels and your rocks,
Your hens and your cocks,
Your cows and your ox,
And beware of the fox.
When the bellman knocks,
Put out your fire and candle-light,
So they shall not you affright:
May you dream of your delights,
In your sleeps see pleasing sights.
Good rest to all, both old and young:
The bellman now hath done his song.

Then would he go laughing _ho, ho, hoh!_ as his use was. Thus would he
continually practise himself in honest mirth, never doing hurt to any that
were cleanly and honest-minded.

HOW THE FAIRIES CALLED ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW TO DANCE WITH THEM,
AND HOW THEY SHOWED HIM THEIR SEVERAL CONDITIONS

Robin Good-fellow being walking one night heard the excellent music of Tom
Thumb's brave bag-pipe: he remembering the sound (according to the command
of King Obreon) went towards them. They, for joy that he was come, did
circle him in, and in a ring did dance round about him. Robin Good-fellow,
seeing their love to him, danced in the midst of them, and sung them this
song to the tune of _To him Bun_.

THE SONG

Round about, little ones, quick and nimble,
In and out wheel about, run, hop, or amble.
Join your hands lovingly: well done, musician!
Mirth keepeth man in health like a physician.
Elves, urchins, goblins all, and little fairies
That do filch, black, and pinch maids of the dairies;
Make a ring on the grass with your quick measures,
Tom shall play, and I'll sing for all your pleasures.

Pinch and Patch, Gull and Grim,
Go you together,
For you can change your shapes
Like to the weather.
Sib and Tib, Lick and Lull,
You all have tricks, too;
Little Tom Thumb that pipes
Shall go betwixt you.
Tom, tickle up thy pipes
Till they be weary:
I will laugh, _ho, ho, hoh!_
And make me merry.
Make a ring on this grass
With your quick measures:
Tom shall play, I will sing
For all your pleasures.
The moon shines fair and bright,
And the owl hollos,
Mortals now take their rests
Upon their pillows:
The bat's abroad likewise,
And the night-raven,
Which doth use for to call
Men to Death's haven.
Now the mice peep abroad,
And the cats take them,
Now do young wenches sleep,
Till their dreams wake them.
Make a ring on the grass
With your quick measures:
Tom shall play, I will sing
For all your pleasures.

Thus danced they a good space: at last they left and sat down upon the
grass; and to requite Robin Good-fellow's kindness, they promised to tell
to him all the exploits that they were accustomed to do: Robin thanked them
and listened to them, and one began to tell his tricks in this manner.

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED PINCH

"After that we have danced in this manner as you have beheld, I, that am
called Pinch, do go about from house to house: sometimes I find the doors
of the house open; that negligent servant that left them so, I do so nip
him or her, that with my pinches their bodies are as many colours as a
mackerel's back. Then take I them, and lay I them in the door, naked or
unnaked I care not whether: there they lie, many times till broad day, ere
they waken; and many times, against their wills, they show some parts about
them, that they would not have openly seen.

"Sometimes I find a slut sleeping in the chimney-corner, when she should be
washing of her dishes, or doing something else which she hath left undone:
her I pinch about the arms, for not laying her arms to her labour. Some I
find in their bed snorting and sleeping, and their houses lying as clean as
a nasty dog's kennel; in one corner bones, in another egg-shells, behind
the door a heap of dust, the dishes under feet, and the cat in the
cupboard: all these sluttish tricks I do reward with blue legs, and blue
arms. I find some slovens too, as well as sluts: they pay for their
beastliness too, as well as the women-kind; for if they uncase a sloven and
not untie their points, I so pay their arms that they cannot sometimes
untie them, if they would. Those that leave foul shoes, or go into their
beds with their stockings on, I use them as I did the former, and never
leave them till they have left their beastliness.

But to the good I do no harm,
But cover them and keep them warm:
Sluts and slovens I do pinch,
And make them in their beds to winch
This is my practice, and my trade;
Many have I cleanly made."

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED PATCH

"About midnight do I walk, and for the tricks I play they call me Patch.
When I find a slut asleep, I smutch her face if it be clean; but if it be
dirty, I wash it in the next piss pot that I can find: the balls I use to
wash such sluts withal is a sow's pancake or a pilgrim's salve. Those that
I find with their heads nitty and scabby, for want of combing, I am their
barbers, and cut their hair as close as an ape's tail; or else clap so much
pitch on it, that they must cut it off themselves to their great shame.
Slovens also that neglect their masters' business, they do not escape. Some
I find that spoil their masters' horses for want of currying: those I do
daub with grease and soot, that they are fain to curry themselves ere they
can get clean. Others that for laziness will give the poor beasts no meat,
I oftentimes so punish them with blows, that they cannot feed themselves
they are so sore.

Thus many tricks I Patch can do,
But to the good I ne'er was foe:
The bad I hate and will do ever,
Till they from ill themselves do sever.
To help the good I'll run and go,
The bad no good from me shall know."

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED GULL

"When mortals keep their beds I walk abroad, and for my pranks am called by
the name of Gull. I with a feigned voice do often deceive many men, to
their great amazement. Many times I get on men and women, and so lie on
their stomachs, that I cause there great pain, for which they call me by
the name of Hag, or Nightmare. 'Tis I that do steal children, and in the
place of them leave changelings. Sometimes I also steal milk and cream, and
then with my brothers, Patch, Pinch, and Grim, and sisters Sib, Tib, Lick,
and Lull, I feast with my stolen goods: our little piper hath his share in
all our spoils, but he nor our women fairies do ever put themselves in
danger to do any great exploit.

What Gull can do, I have you shown;
I am inferior unto none.
Command me, Robin, thou shalt know,
That I for thee will ride or go:
I can do greater things than these
Upon the land, and on the seas."

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED GRIM

"I walk with the owl, and make many to cry as loud as she doth hollo.
Sometimes I do affright many simple people, for which some have termed me
the Black Dog of Newgate. At the meetings of young men and maids I many
times am, and when they are in the midst of all their good cheer, I come
in, in some fearful shape, and affright them, and then carry away their
good cheer, and eat it with my fellow fairies. 'Tis I that do, like a
screech-owl cry at sick men's windows, which makes the hearers so fearful,
that they say, that the sick person cannot live. Many other ways have I to
fright the simple, but the understanding man I cannot move to fear, because
he knows I have no power to do hurt.

My nightly business I have told,
To play these tricks I use of old:
When candles burn both blue and dim,
Old folk will say, Here's fairy Grim.
More tricks than these I use to do:
Hereat cried Robin, _Ho, ho, hoh!_"

THE TRICKS OF THE WOMEN FAIRIES TOLD BY SIB

"To walk nightly, as do the men fairies, we use not; but now and then we go
together, and at good housewives' fires we warm and dress our fairy
children. If we find clean water and clean towels, we leave them money,
either in their basins or in their shoes; but if we find no clean water in
their houses, we wash our children in their pottage, milk, or beer, or
whate'er we find: for the sluts that leave not such things fitting, we wash
their faces and hands with a gilded child's clout, or else carry them to
some river, and duck them over head and ears. We often use to dwell in some
great hill, and from thence we do lend money to any poor man or woman that
hath need; but if they bring it not again at the day appointed, we do not
only punish them with pinching, but also in their goods, so that they never
thrive till they have paid us.

Tib and I the chiefest are,
And for all things do take care.
Lick is cook and dresseth meat,
And fetcheth all things that we eat:
Lull is nurse and tends the cradle,
And the babes doth dress and swaddle.
This little fellow, called Tom Thumb,
That is no bigger than a plum,
He is the porter to our gate,
For he doth let all in thereat,
And makes us merry with his play,
And merrily we spend the day."

She having spoken, Tom Thumb stood up on tip-toe and showed himself,
saying--

My actions all in volumes two are wrote,
The least of which will never be forgot.

He had no sooner ended his two lines, but a shepherd (that was watching in
the field all night) blew up a bag-pipe: this so frightened Tom, that he
could not tell what to do for the present time. The fairies seeing Tom
Thumb in such a fear, punished the shepherd with his pipes' loss, so that
the shepherd's pipe presently brake in his hand, to his great amazement.
Hereat did Robin Good-fellow laugh, _ho, ho, hoh!_ Morning being come, they
all hasted to Fairy Land, where I think they yet remain.

My hostess asked me how I liked this tale? I said, it was long enough, and
good enough to pass time that might be worser spent. I, seeing her dry,
called for two pots: she emptied one of them at a draught, and never
breathed for the matter: I emptied the other at leisure; and being late I
went to bed, and did dream of this which I had heard.

* * * * *

THE ROMANCE OF THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE

FYTTE I

As I me went this endris[1] day,
Full fast in mind making my moan,
In a merry morning of May
By Huntlie banks myself alone,
I heard the jay and the throstle-cock; 5
The mavis meaned[2] her of her song;
The woodwale bered[3] as a bell,
That all the wood about me rong.
Alone in longing thus as I lay
Underneath a seemly tree, 10
Saw I where a lady gay
Came riding over a longe lea.
If I should sit to Doomesday
With my tongue to wrable and wry[4],
Certainly that lady gay 15
Never be she described for me!
Her palfrey was a dapple-gray,[5]
Swilk[6] one ne saw I never none;
As does the sun on summer's day,
That fair lady herself she shone. 20
Her saddle it was of roelle-bone[7];
Full seemly was that sight to see!
Stiffly set with precious stone
And compast all with crapotee[8]--
Stones of Orient great plenty; 25
Her hair about her head it hang;
She rode over that longe lea;
A while she blew, another she sang.
Her girths of noble silk they were;
The buckles were of beryl-stone; 30
Her stirrups were of crystal clear,
And all with pearl overbegone[9];
Her paytrell[10] was of iral-stone;
Her crupper was of orphare[11];
And as clear gold her bridle shone; 35
On either side hang belles three.
She led three grew-hounds in a leash,
And seven raches[12] by her they ran;
She bare an horn about her halse[13],
And under/her belt full many a flane[14]. 40
Thomas lay and saw that sight
Underneath a seemly tree.
He said "Yon is Mary most of might,[15]
That bare that child that died for me.
But-if[16] I speak with yon lady bright, 45
I hope my heart will break in three!
Now shall I go with all my might
Her for to meet at Eildon tree[17]."
Thomas rathely[18] up he rase,
And he ran over that mountain high; 50
If it be as the story says,
Her he met at Eildon tree.
He kneeled down upon his knee,
Underneath that greenwood spray,
And said "Lovely lady, rue on me, 55
Queen of heaven, as thou well may!"
Then spake that lady mild of thought,
"Thomas, let such wordes be;
Queen of heaven ne am I nought,
For I took never so high degree. 60
But I am of another country,
If I be 'parelled most of price;
I ride after these wilde fee[19];
My raches runnes at my device."
"If thou be 'parelled most of price, 65
And here rides thus in thy folly,
Of love, lady, as thou art wise,
Thou give me leave to lie thee by!"
She said "Thou man, that were folly;
I pray thee, Thomas, thou let me be; 70
For I say thee full sekerly[20],
That sin will fordo all my beauty,"
"Now, lovely lady, rue on me,
And I will evermore with thee dwell;
Here my troth I will plight to thee, 75
Whether thou wilt in heaven or hell."
"Man of mould, thou wilt me mar;
But yet thou shalt have all thy will;
And, trow it well, thou 'chievest the ware[21],
For all my beauty wilt thou spill." 80
Down then light that lady bright
Underneath that greenwood spray.
And, as the story tells full right,
Seven times by her he lay.
She said "Man, thee likes thy play; 85
What byrde[22] in bower may deal with thee?
Thou marrest me all this longe day;
I pray thee, Thomas, let me be!"
Thomas stood up in that stead[23],
And he beheld that lady gay; 90
Her hair it hang all over her head;
Her eyne were out, that ere were gray;
And all the rich clothing was away
That he before saw in that stead;
Her one shank black, her other gray, 95
And all her body like the lead.
Then said Thomas "Alas, alas!
In faith this is a duleful[24] sight;
How art thou faded thus in the face,
That shone before as the sun so bright!" 100
She said, "Thomas, take leave at sun and moon,
And also at leaf that grows on tree;
This twelvemonth shalt thou with me gone[25],
And Middle-earth[26] shalt thou none see."
He kneeled down upon his knee, 105
Underneath that greenwood spray,
And said "Lovely lady[27], rue on me,
Mild queen of heaven, as thou best may!
Alas!" he said, "and woe is me!
I trow my deeds will work me care; 110
My soul, Jesu, beteach[28] I thee,
Whithersoever my bones shall fare."
She led him in at Eildon hill
Underneath a derne[29] lea,
Where it was dark as midnight mirk, 115
And ever the water till his knee.
The mountenance[30] of dayes three
He heard but swoughing of the flood;
At the last he said "Full woe is me!
Almost I die for fault of food." 120
She led him intill a fair herbere[31]
Where fruit was growing great plenty;
Pear and apple, both ripe they were,
The date, and also the damasee,
The fig, and also the wine-berry; 125
The nightegales bigging[32] on their nest;
The papejoys[33] fast about gan fly,
And throstles sang, would have no rest.
He pressed to pull fruit with his hand,
As man for food that was near faint. 130
She said "Thomas, thou let them stand,[34]
Or else the fiend thee will attaint!
If thou it pluck, soothly to say,
Thy soul goes to the fire of hell;
It comes never out or Doomesday, 135
But there in pain aye for to dwell.
Thomas, soothly, I thee hight[35],
Come lay thy head down on my knee,
And thou shalt see the fairest sight
That ever saw man of thy country." 140
He did in hight[36] as she him bade;
Upon her knee his head he laid,
For her to pay[37] he was full glad,
And then that lady to him said:
"Seest thou[38] now yon fair[39] way, 145
That lieth over yon high mountain?
Yon is the way to heaven for aye
When sinful souls are past their pain.
Seest thou now yon other way,
That lieth low beneath yon rise[40]? 150
Yon is the way, thee sooth to say,
Unto the joy of Paradise.
Seest thou yet yon thirde way,
That lieth under yon greene plain?
Yon is the way, with teen and tray[41], 155
Where sinful soules suffer their pain.
But seest thou now yon fourthe way,
That lieth over yon deepe dell?
Yon is the way, so wellaway!
Unto the burning fire of hell. 160
Seest thou yet yon fair castel,
That standeth over yon highe hill?
Of town and tower it bears the bell,
In earth is none like it untill.
For sooth, Thomas, yon is mine own, 165
And the king's of this country;
But me were lever[42] be hanged and drawn
Or that[43] he wist thou lay me by.
When thou com'st to yon castle gay,
I pray thee courteous man to be, 170
And whatso any man to thee say,
Look thou answer none but me.
My lord is served at each mess
With thirty knightes fair and free;
I shall say, sitting at the dess[44], 175
I took thy speech beyond the sea."
Thomas still as stone he stood,
And he beheld that lady gay;
She came again as fair and good
And also rich on her palfrey. 180
Her grewhounds filled with deer-blood;
Her raches coupled, by my fay;
She blew her horn with main and mood[45];
Unto the castle she took the way.
Into the hall soothly she went; 185
Thomas followed at her hand;
Then ladies came, both fair and gent,
With courtesy to her kneeland[46].
Harp and fithel both they fand[47],
Gittern and also the sawtery[48], 190
Lute and ribib[49] both gangand[50],
And all manner of minstrelsy.
The most marvel that Thomas thought,
When that he stood upon the floor,
For fifty hartes in were brought, 195
That were bothe great and store[51].
Raches lay lapping in the blood;
Cookes came with dressing-knife;
They brittened[52] them as they were wood;
Revel among them was full rife. 200
Knightes danced by three and three,
There was revel, gamen, and play;
Lovely ladies, fair and free,
That sat and sang on rich array.
Thomas dwelled in that solace 205
More than I you say, parde;
Till on a day, so have I grace,
My lovely lady said to me[53];
"Do busk thee, Thomas; thee buse[54] again;
For thou may here no longer be; 210
Hie thee fast with might and main;
I shall thee bring till Eildon tree."
Thomas said then with heavy cheer[55],
"Lovely lady, now let me be;
For certes, lady, I have been here 215
Nought but the space of dayes three!"
"For sooth, Thomas, as I thee tell,
Thou hast been here three year and more;
But longer here thou may not dwell;[56]
The skill[57] I shall thee tell wherefore. 220
To-morn[58], of hell the foule fiend
Among this folk will fetch his fee;
And thou art mickle man and hend[59],
I trow full well he would choose thee.
For all the gold that ever may be 225
From hethen[60] unto the worldes end,
Thou beest never betrayed for me;
Therefore with me I rede[61] thou wend."
She brought him again to Eildon tree,
Underneath that greenwood spray. 230
In Huntlie banks is merry to be,
Where fowles sing both night and day.[62]
"Farewell, Thomas, I wend my way,
For me buse[63] over the bentes brown."
--Lo, here a fytte; more is to say[64] 235
All of Thomas of Erceldoune.

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