Rather than ever a shepherds bratShold tell me such a tale!
A shepherds brat even as I was,
You mote have let me bee,
I never had come to the kings faire courte,
To crave any love of thee.
He sett her on a milk-white steede,
And himself upon a graye;
He hung a bugle about his necke,
And soe they rode awaye.
But when they came unto the place,
Where marriage-rites were done,
She proved herself a dukes daughtèr,
And he but a squires sonne.
Now marrye me, or not, sir knight,
Your pleasure shall be free:
If you make me ladye of one good towne,
He make you lord of three.
Ah! cursed bee the gold, he sayd,
If thou hadst not been trewe,
I shold have forsaken my sweet love,
And have changed her for a newe.
And now their hearts being linked fast,
They joyned hand in hande:
Thus he had both purse, and person too,
And all at his commande.
KING ESTMERE
Hearken to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren
That ever borne y-were.
The tone of them was Adler younge,
The tother was kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deeds,
As any were farr and neare.
As they were drinking ale and wine
Within kyng Estmeres halle:
When will ye marry a wyfe, brothèr,
A wyfe to glad us all?
Then bespake him kyng Estmere,
And answered him hastilee:
I know not that ladye in any land
That's able to marrye with mee.
Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene.
Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry Englànd,
Where we might find a messenger
Betwixt us towe to sende.
Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brothèr,
Ile beare you companye;
Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.
Thus the renisht them to ryde
Of twoe good renisht steeds,
And when the came to kyng Adlands halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds.
And when the came to kyng Adlands hall
Before the goodlye gate,
There they found good kyng Adlànd
Rearing himselfe theratt.
Now Christ thee save, good kyng Adland;
Now Christ you save and see.
Sayd, You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.
You have a daughter, said Adler younge,
Men call her bright and sheene,
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.
Yesterday was att my deere daughter
Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;
And then she nicked him of naye,
And I doubt sheele do you the same.
The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,
And 'leeveth on Mahound;
And pitye it were that fayre ladye
Shold marrye a heathen hound.
But grant to me, sayes kyng Estmere,
For my love I you praye;
That I may see your daughter deere
Before I goe hence awaye.
Although itt is seven yeers and more
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake
To glad my guestes alle.
Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes laced in pall,
And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
And as many gentle squiers,
To tend upon them all.
