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Welcome, sir Knight, quoth he, with your gay ladye,
Good sir John Cockle, once welcome againe ;

And so is the squire of courage soe free,

Quoth Dick, abots on you; do you know mee?

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The King and his courtiers laugh at this heartilye,
While the King taketh them both by the hand;
With ladyes and their maids, like to the queen of spades.
The miller's wife did soe orderly stand,

A milkmaid's courtesye at every word
And down the folkes were set to the board:

Where the King royally, in princelye majestye,
Sate at his dinner, with joy and delight;
When they had eaten well, then hee to jesting fell,
And in a bowle of wine dranke to the Knight:
Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.

Quoth Sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire:
But then saith our King, now I think of a thing;
Some of your lightfoote I would we had here.
Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well may I say it,
'Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it.

Why art thou angry? quoth our King merrilye;
In faith, I take it now very unkind:

I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartilye.
Quoth Dicke, you are like to wait till I have din'd:

You feed us with twattling dishes so small;

Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all.

Aye, marry, quoth our King, that were a daintye thing,
Could a man get but one here for to eate.

With that Dick straite arose, and pluckt one from his hose,
Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate.

The King made a proffer to snatch it away:-
'Tis meat for your master, good sir, you must say.

Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent;
And then the ladyes prepared to dance:
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent
Unto their paces the King did advance.

Here with the ladyes such sport they did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake.

Many thankes for their paines did the King give them,
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed;
Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?

Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head:

She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed;

Then Sir John Cockle the King call'd unto him,

And of merry Sherwood made him o'er-seer;
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye;
Now take heede you steale no more of my deer:

And once a quarter let's here have your view;
And now, Sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.

SIR GUY AND SIR EVERARD: A FRAGMENTARY BALLAD.

Then forth Sir Guy came from the bush

With his black armour dight,

And with his sword, uplift on high,

He thus bespoke the knight.

"Sir Knight, Sir Knight, now wee be mett
For Isabel we must fight,

And he that wins shall wed the maid

Before the morning light."

So on they sett with many a stroke

And eke with many a blow,

Till stout Sir Everard gave Sir Guy

A woefull overthrow.

Sir Guy then lept to his feete,

All reckless of the pain,

Quoth he, "May heav'n be now my speed,

Or else I shall be slain."

He graspt his sword with mayne and might,
And spying a secret part,

"Heaven forefend, Sir Knight," he cried,
And pierc'd him to the heart.

Sir Everard once lift up his head;

Once heaving up his breath.

"Fly! Ay!" he said; "farewell, farewell,"

Then closed his eyne in death.

Isabel's sash did gird his loyns,

In this gear was he found,

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With trembling voice she weeping said,
"Sir Everard's in my heart,

Our loves shall not in this world end,

His death shall not us part.

Mine can alone my true knight show
The lasting grief I bore;

Ye saints record my plighted vows,
And I will weep no more."

The mournful scene now past, the crowd
Sir Everard's corpse remov'd,

The hapless maid then drooping down,
Dyed softly as she lov'd.

Full many a day and many a yeare

Sir Guy was vexed sore

With ulcers foul and loathsome lice

And curses many more;

Till to a reverend father come

He did his sins confess;

Anon by holy church absolv'd

He took a hermit's dress.

NEWARK AND THE SIEGE THEREOF.

All her hardships ended and brought to a happy conclusion by the valiant Prince Rupert, Count Palatine of the Rhine, Duke of Bavaria and Cumberland, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, &c.

These rhymes are said to have been "written by Sir William Davenant, or some one about the Marquis of Newcastle, he being a gentleman of grandeur, generosity and loyalty." The writer of Ladye Shakerley, to whom we are indebted for these lines, says we came possessed of these rhymes by a fellow hawking of tracts and verses.'

66

Old Newark's walls lay compassed by three armies in the field,

And Meldrum, Hubbard, Willoughby, vow'd to God they'd make them yield; But the loyal hearts within swore they never would give in,

For as long as they had life they would keep it for the King.

They were three to one against them; they surrounded all the town,
And the four old gates they yearned to break them down; '
And Hubbard, Meldrum, Willoughby, said, "Ye'd better now give in,
And we'll grant you easy terms, though you're fighting for the King."
And the one-to-three looked out from the grand old wall in scorn,
And they made a deep, dead silence while the Herald blew his horn,
For gallant Sir John Henderson was governor within,

And he'd sworn upon the Cross to keep it for the King.

So the Herald answered proudly, in the name of all the rest, "We know what the mercies of the wicked are, at best;

If you storm the town we'll blow it up; we never will give in;

And our gates will keep you long enough-false rebels to your King."

"We've guns enough, we've men enough, our hearts are strong and true;

We will burn the city down, but we'll never yield to you;

We can starve and we can die, but we cannot live to fling
Our brave old gates wide open to you-traitors to the King."

"So tell your rebel leaders we are loyal to the last,
And when our bread is eaten, we then must keep our fast;
We can do and we can dare, but old Newark's' walls shall ring
With no battle-cry but ours-for God and for the King!"

Oh, the Roundheads snuffled Psalms, and swore below their breath,
When the rebel leaders heard this challenge to the death;
And they vow'd they'd sack the town, for it was a shameful thing
To make the godly wait so long by this fighting for the King.

For many weeks and many months they bravely held their own,
Till famine, with her hungry eyes, went up and down the town;
And men then never left the walls-they could not face within
The faces of the children that were starving for the King.

And the women brought the food to the men that kept the wall,
And they tried to watch them smiling as they ate it, crumbs and all;
For they knew that but for them, and the little ones within,
They would die in one brave sally for God and for the King.

Then one gallant fellow said, "We can do, and we can dare,
Aught but watching tender women, so patient, take their share;
I will advertise Prince Rupert, and our homes once more shall ring
With merry children shouting for God and for the King!"

They drest the brave young Cavalier, ready to do and dare,
They drest him like a Roundhead, they cut close his waving hair;
Then the maiden he had wooed and won stept in amid the ring,
And before them all she blest him, for God and for the King.

He looked into her deep-set eyes, he gave her one long kiss,
Then he turned him to his comrades, "I pray you grant me this;
If the foe "-he could not say it, but he touched his pistol spring,
And they swore to do his bidding, by God and by the King.

And the rebels knew the garrison and death were face to face,
And they hoped a few days more now would make them sue for grace;
They knew the Prince was on his way, their scouts did daily bring
Fresh tidings of his marching on, for God and for the King.

But they knew how small his force, and they deemed their scouts did lie
When, with terror in their faces, they swore the Prince was nigh;

For they never dreamt that he dared the battle to begin

With a handful of wild troopers, for God and for the King.

But Essex sent nine hundred horse to watch his little band,

And Ashburnham had wrote the Prince "he hoped they'd all be-;"
The Prince left them to watch his foot, and five hundred horse did bring,
To charge three rebel armies, for God and for the King.

So cheerily at midnight blew Prince Rupert's bugle-horn,
And old Newark rose before them, as rose the early morn;

Then he looked upon his troopers, and his troopers looked on him,
And he knew to death they'd follow, for God and for the King.

They gained the Beacon Hill, and the town beneath them lay,
The rebel army round the walls gathered in dense array.
The grand old castle still from her battlements did fling
The Royal Standard proudly, for God and for the King.

And the river by the castle still murmering did run,
For ever, ever murmering and glittering in the sun,
Unheeding of the tumult, of the strife and tears within,
Of those who still fought bravely, but were starving for the King.

All around, and on the foe, Rupert's eagle eye did fall;
Then he turned him to his troopers, five hundred in them all;
And then his voice rose loud and clear above the shouts and din-
Rose clear and high his battle-cry, "For God and for the King."

They are seen upon the hill top, all dark against the sky,
They are sweeping down the hill side to death or victory;
They have burst upon the rebels, and Newark heard the hymn
(None ever sounded sweeter), "For God and for the King!"

They are round him, all those Roundheads, they surround his little band,
They are fighting against hundreds, they are fighting hand to hand;

And ever in the thickest fight, where shot like hail poured in,

Rose loud and high that dauntless cry, "For God and for the King?"

The garrison have sallied out, the foes fall back a space,

For Rupert presses onward: neither give nor ask for grace;

And ever in the hottest fight, above the battle din,

His battle-word is clearly heard, "For God and for the King!"

They have won the bridge, those troopers! They will keep it to the death,
And the foes are drinking hard in the crimsoned stream beneath;

And down the grey hill side Rupert's Foot is marching in,
And echo high the battle-cry, "For God and for the King!"

They have sheathed their bloody blades at his word, those troopers wild,
For he swore he'd shoot the first that harmed a woman or a child;
And the foe have begged for quarter, they are ready to give in,
And leave Newark and her standard to God and to the King.

As he entered the old gates one cry of triumph rose

To bless and welcome him who had saved them from their foes;

The women kiss his charger, and the little children sing,

"Prince Rupert's brought us bread to eat from God and from the King."

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