Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
All wood he answered him againe :
Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
But I did lose by that bargaine:

And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
Before these lords so faire and free,

Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape,
By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee.

I drawe you to record, lords, he said.

With that he cast him a gods-pennie :
Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne,
And here, good John, is thy money:

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold
And layd them down upon the bord:
All woe-begone was John o' the Scales,
Soe shent he cold say never a word.
He told him forth the good red gold,
He told it forth [with] mickle dinne:
"The gold is thine, the land is mine

And now I'me againe the lord of Linne."

Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellow!

Forty pence thou didst lend mee:
Now I am againe the lord of Linne,
And forty pounds I will give thee.

Ile make thee' keeper of my forrèst,
Both of the wild deere and the tame;
For, but I reward thy bounteous heart,
I wis, good fellow, I were to blame.

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Now well-a-day! sayth Joan o' the Scales:
Now well-a-day! and woe is my life!
Yesterday I was lady of Linne,

Now I'm but John o' the Scales his wife.

Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne,
Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee:
Christs curse light on me if ever again
I bring my lands in jeopardy.

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XXII.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ELEANOR.

LORD Thomas he was a bold forestèr,

And a chaser of the kings deer;

Fair Eleanor was a fine woman,

And Lord Thomas he lov'd her dear.

Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he said,
And riddle us both as one;

Whether I shall marry with fair Eleanòr,
And let the brown girl alone?

The brown girl she has got houses and lands,
Fair Eleanor she has got none,

Therefor I charge thee, on my blessing,

To bring me the brown girl home.

And as it befell on a high holiday,

As

many did more beside,

Lord Thomas he went to fair Eleanor,

That should have been his bride.

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But when he came to fair Eleanors bower,

He knocked there at the ring,

But who was so ready as fair Eleanòr,

To let lord Thomas within.

What news, what news, lord Thomas? she said,

What news hast thou brought unto me? I am come to bid thee to my wedding, And that is bad news for thee.

O god forbid, lord Thomas, she said,
That such a thing should be done;

I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
And you to have been the bridegroom.

Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she said,
And riddle it all in one;
Whether I shall go to lord Thomases wedding,
Or whether I shall tarry at home?

There's many that are your friends, daughtèr,
And many that are your foe,

Therefor I charge you, on my blessing,
To lord Thomases wedding don't go.

There's many that are my friends, mother,
If a thousand more were my foe,
Betide my life, or betide my death,

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30

To lord Thomases wedding I'll go.

40

She clothed herself in gallant attire,
And her merry men all in green,
And as they rid through every town,
They took her to have been a queen.

But when she came to lord Thomases gate,
She knocked there at the ring;

But who was so ready as lord Thomàs,

To let fair Eleanor in.

Is this your bride? fair Ellen she said,
Methinks she looks wonderous brown;
You might have had as fair a womàn

As ever trod on the ground.
Despise her not, fair Ellen, he said,
Despise her not unto me;

For better I love thy little-fingèr,
Than all her whole body.

This brown bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharp,

And betwixt the short ribs and the long,

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She prick'd fair Eleanor to the heart.

60

Oh! Christ now save thee, lord Thomas, he said,
Methinks thou look'st wonderous 'wan;'

Thou wast us'd for to look with as fresh a colòur,

As ever the sun shin'd on.

Oh! art thou blind, lord Thomas? she said,

Or can'st thou not very well see?
Oh! dost thou not see my own hearts blood
Runs trickling down my knee?

Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;

As he walk'd about the hall,

He cut off his brides head from her shoulders,

And he threw it against the wall.

[V. 62. wain.]

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He set the hilt against the ground,

And the point against his heart;

There was never three lovers that ever met

As it fell out upon a day,

Two lovers they sat on a hill;

They sat together a long summers day,

And could not talk their fill.

I see no harm by you, Margarèt,
And you see none by me;
Before to-morrow at eight o'clock

A rich wedding you shall see.

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,

A combing of her hair;

There she espied sweet William and his bride,

As they were a riding near.

Down she laid her ivory comb,

And up she bound her hair;

She went away 'fast' from the bower,

But never more came there.

[V. 76. they.]

[V. 15. first.]

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