OPENING LINES OF PIERS PLOWMAN'S VISION. In a somer seson, whan soft was the sonne, put; rough clothes; Lshepherd. 1 Malvern Hills, in the counties of Worcester and Hereford. [but. Me byfel a 'ferly of fairy, methouyte; I was wery forwandred, and went me to reste And as I lay, and lened, and loked in the wateres, [wonder. [by wandering. [sounded. A ROBIN HOOD BALLAD. 1. There are twelve months in all the year, But the merriest month in all the year 2. Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, And there he met a silly old woman, 3." What news? what news? thou silly old woman, Said she, "There's three squires in Nottingham-town 4." Oh, what have they done?" said Robin Hood, “It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer, 5.“ Dost thou not mind, old woman,” he said, By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood, 6. Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, [pilgrim. 1 Was weeping, who was weeping; but the relative was often omitted by the old English writers. 7." What news? what news? thou silly old man, Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town 8." Come change thy apparel with me, old man, 9. Then he put on the old man's hat; 10. Then he put on the old man's cloak, 11. Then he put on the old man's breeks, Was patched from leg to side: "By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say, "This man loved little pride." 12. Then he put on the old man's hose, Were patched from knee to wrist: "By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood, "I'd laugh if I had any list. [wish. 13. Then he put on the old man's shoes, Were patched both beneath and 'aboon; [above. [dress. 14. Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, And there he met with the proud sheriff, 15." Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said; "Now heaven you save and see! And what will you give to a silly old man 16." Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said, Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen, 17. Then Robin he turns him round about, And jumps from stock to stone: "By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said, "That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man.” 18." I was ne'er a hangman in all my life, But curst be he," said bold Robin, 19." I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt, A bag for bread, and a bag for beef, 20." I have a horn in my pocket, I got it from Robin Hood, And still when I set it to my mouth, 21." Oh, wind thy horn, thou proud fellów! I wish that thou give such a blast, 22. The first loud blast that he did blow A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men 23. The next loud blast that he did give, [strongly. 24." Oh, who are yon," the sheriff he said, "Come tripping over the lea?” "They're my attendants," brave Robin did say; 25. They took the gallows from the 'slack, They hanged the proud sheriff on that, [CHAPTER VII.] SIR THOMAS MORE. Born 1480-Died 1535. [height. PART OF A LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 1. I pray you to make some good ensearch what my poor neighbours have lost, and bid them take no thought therefore; for, if I should not leave myself a spoon, there shall no poor neighbour of mine bear no loss by any chance happened in my house. I pray you be, with my children and your household, merry in God; and devise [plan] somewhat with your friends what way were best to take, for provision to be made for corn for our household, and for seed this year coming, if we think it good that we keep the ground still in our hands. 2. And whether we think it good that we so shall do or not, yet I think it were not best suddenly thus to leave it all up, and to put away our folk off our farm, till we have somewhat advised us thereon. Howbeit, if we have more now than ye shall need, and which can get them other masters, ye may then discharge us of them. But I would not that any man were suddenly sent away, he wot not whither. 3. At my coming hither, I perceived none other but that I should tarry still with the king's grace. But now I shall, I think, because of this chance, get leave this next week to come home and see you, and then shall we further devise together upon all things, what order shall be best to take. 4. And thus as heartily fare you well, with all our children, as ye can wish. At Woodstock, the third day of September [1528], by the hand of your loving husband, THOMAS MORE, Knight. |