[The] Shepheard and the King, and of Gillian the Shepheards Wife, with her
Churlish answers: being full of mirth and merry pastime. To the tune of Flying Fame.
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AN Elder time there was so yore,
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when gybes of Churlish glee,
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Were usd amongst our Country Earles,
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though no such thing now be.
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The which King Alfred liking well,
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forsooke his stately Court:
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And in disguise unknowne went forth, to see that Joviall sport.
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How Dick and Tom, in clouted shoone,
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and coats of russet Gray,
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Esteemd themselves more brave then those
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that went in Golden ray.
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In Garments fit for such a life,
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our good King Alfred went,
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All ragd and torne, as from his backe,
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the Begger his clothes had rent.
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A Sword and Buckler good and strong
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to give Jack sauce a rap:
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And on his head in stead of a Crowne,
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he wore a Monmouth Cap;
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Thus coasting thorow Somerset Shire,
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neere Newton-Court he met
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A Shepheard swaine, of lusty limbes,
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that up and downe did jet.
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He wore a Bonnet of good gray,
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close buttond to his chin:And at his backe a leather Scrip,
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with much good meate therein.
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God speed good Shepheard (quod our King)
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I come to be thy Guest,
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To taste of thy good victuall here,
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and drinke thats of the best.
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Thy Scrip I know hath cheare good store,
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What then, (the Shepheard said)
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Thou seemst to be some scurvy Theefe,
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and makst mee sore afraid.
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Yet if thou wilt thy dinner winne,
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thy sword and buckler take:
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And if thou canst into my Scrip,
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therewith an entrance make.
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I tell thee Roister it hath store
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of Beefe and Bacon fat,
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With shives of Barley bread to make
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thy chops to water at.
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Here stands my bottle here my Bag,
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if thou canst win them, Roister,
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Against thy Sword and Buckler here,
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my sheep-hooke is my waster.
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Benedicite now (quoth our King)
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it never shall be said,
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That Alfred of thy Shepheards hooke,
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will stand a whit afraid.
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So roundly thus they both fell toot,
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where giving bang for bang:
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At every blow the Shepheard gave,
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King Alfreds Sword cride twang.
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His Buckler provd his chiefest sence,
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for still the Shepheards hooke
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Was that, the which good Alfred could
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in no good manner brooke.
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At last when they had fought foure houres,
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and it grew just mid-day,
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And wearyed both, with right good will,
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desird each other stay.
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Kings truce I cry quoth Alfred then,
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good Shepheard hold thy hand:A sturdier fellow then thy selfe,
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lives not within this Land:Nor a Lustier Roister then thou art,
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the churlish Shepheard said:
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To tell thee plaine, thy Theevish lookes,
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now make my heart afraid.
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Else sure thou art some Prodigall,
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that hast consumd thy store:And here comst wandring to this place,
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to rob and steale for more.
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Deeme not of me, then (quoth our King)
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good Shepheard, in such sort:A Gentleman well knowne I am,
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in good King Alfreds Court.
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The Devill thou art the Shepheard said,
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thou goest in ragges thus torne:Thou rather seemst (I thinke) to be
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some Beggar basely borne:But if thou wilt mend thy estate,
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and here a Shepheard be:At night to Gillian my old wife,
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thou shalt goe home with mee.
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For shees as good a toothlesse Dame,
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as mumbleth on browne Bread:
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Where thou shalt lye in harden sheetes,
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upon a fresh straw bed:Of Whig and Whay, we have great store,
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and keepe good Peas-straw fires:
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And now and then good barly cakes,
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when better day requires,
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But for my Master which is chiefe,
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and Lord of Newton Court:
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Hee keepes (I say) us Shepheard Swaines
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in farre more braver sort:We there have Curds and clouted Cream
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of red Cowes morning milke:And now and then fine Buttered Cakes,
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as soft as any silke.
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Of Beefe, and reesed Bacon store,
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that is most fat and greazie,
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Wee have likewise to feed our Chops,
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to make them glib and easie.
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Thus if thou wilt my man become,
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this usage shalt thou have.
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If not, adue, goe hang thy selfe,
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and so farewell sir knave.
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King Alfred hearing of this glee,
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the churlish Shepheard said,
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Was well content to be his man,
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and so the bargaine made:
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A penny round the Shepheard gave,
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in earnest of the match:
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To keepe his sheepe in Field and Fold,
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as Shepheards use to watch.
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His wages should be full ten Groates,
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for service of a yeare:Yet was it not his use, old Lad,
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to hire a man so deare:For did the King himselfe (quoth he)
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unto my Cottage come:He should not for his twelve-months pay,
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receive a greater summe.
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Hereat the bonny King grew blythe,
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to heare this Clownish jest:How silly Sots as Custome is,
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doe descant on the best,
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But not to spoile the following sports.
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he was content (good King)
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To fit the Shepheards humor right,
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in every kind of thing.
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A Sheep-hooke then, with Patch his Dog,
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and Tar-box by his side:He with his Master cheeke by jowle,
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unto old Gillian hyed:Unto whose sight no sooner come,
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whom have you here (quoth she?)
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A fellow I doubt will cut our throats,
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so like a knave lookes hee.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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NOt so old dame, quoth Alfred straight,
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of mee you need not feare:
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My Master hath hired me for ten Groates,
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to serve you one whole yeare,
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So good Dame Gillian grant me leave
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within your home to stay:For by Saint Anne doe what you can,
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I will not yet away.
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Her churlish usage pleasd him still,
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but put him to such proofe:That he that night was almost choakt
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within that smoakie roofe.
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But as he sate with smiling cheere,
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the event of all to see:His Dame brought forth a peece of Dowe,
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which in the fire throwes she.
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Where lying on the Harth to bake,
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by chance the Cake did burne:What canst thou not, thou Lowt, quoth she
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take paines the same to turne?Thou art more quick to rake it out,
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and eat it up halfe Dowe:
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Then thus to stay tillt be enough,
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and so thy manners show.
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But serve mee such another tricke,
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Ile thwack thee on the snout:Which made the patient King good man,
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of her to stand in doubt.
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But to be briefe, to bed they went,
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the good-man and his Wife:
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But never such a lodging had
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King Alfred in his life.
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For he was laid on white Sheepes woll,
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new pulld from tanned Fells:
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And ore his head hung spiders webs,
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as if they had beene Bells:
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Is this the Country guise, thought he? then here I will not stay:But hence be gone as soone as breakes
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the p[ee]ping of next day.
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The cackling Geese and Hens kept roost,
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and pearcht by his bed side:
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Whereat the last the wrathfull Cocks
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made knowne the morning tide:Then up got Alfred, with his horne,
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and blew so long a blast,
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That made Gillian and her Groome,
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in bed full sore agast.
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Arise quoth she, we are undone,
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this night we lodged have,
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At unawares within our house,
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a false dissembling Knave.
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Rise, husband, rise, heell cut our throats,
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he calleth for his Mates,
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Ide give (old Will) our good Cade-Lambe
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he would depart our Gates.
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But still King Alfred blew his horne,
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before them more and more:
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Till that a hundred Lords and Knights
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alighted at their doore.
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Which cryed all hayle all hayle good King,
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long have we lookt your Grace:And here you find (my merry men all)
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your Soveraigne in this place.
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Wee shall be surely hangd up both,
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old Gillian, I much feare,
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The Shepheard said, for using thus
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our good King Alfred heere:
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A pardon my Liege (quoth Gillian then)
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for my Husband and for mee:By these ten bones I never thought,
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the same that now I see.
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And by my hooke the Shepheard said,
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and Oath both good and true,
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Before this time, O Noble King,
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I never your highnesse knew:Then pardon me, and my old Wife,
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that we may after say:When first you came into our house,
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it was a happy day.
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It shall be done, said Alfred straight,
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and Gillian my old Dame,
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For this thy churlish using me,
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deserveth not much blame:For this thy Countrey guise, I see, to be thus bluntish still.
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And where the plainest meaning is,
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remaines the smallest ill.
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And Master, so I tell thee now,
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for thy late manhood showne,
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A thousand Weathers Ile bestow
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upon thee for thine owne:With pasture grounds, as much as will
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suffice to feed them all:And this thy cottage, I will change
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into a stately Hall.
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And for the same (as dutie bindes)
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the Shepheard said, good King:
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A milke white Lambe once every Yeere,
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Ile to your Highnesse bring:
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And Gillian my old Wife likewise,
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of wooll to make your Coates:Will give so much at New-yeeres tide,
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as shall be worth ten Groates.
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And in your prayse, my Bag-pipe shall
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sound sweetly every yeere:How Alfred our renowned King,
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most kindly hath beene here.
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Thanks, Shepheard, thanks, quod he againe,
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the next time I come hither,
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My Lords with me here in this house,
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will all be merry together.
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