Our king he kept a false stewàrde, Sir Aldingar they him call; A falser steward than he was one, Servde not in bower nor hall. He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, Her deere worshippe to betraye: Our queene she was a good womàn, And evermore said him naye. Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, With her hee was never content, Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse, In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gate, A lazar both blinde and lame: He tooke the lazar upon his backe, Him on the queenes bed has layne. "Lye still, lazar, whereas thou lyest, Looke thou goe not hence away; He make thee a whole man and a sound In two howers of the day." Then went him forth Sir Aldingar, And hyed him to our king: "If I might have grace, as I have space, Sad tydings I could bring." Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar, Saye on the soothe to mee. "Our queene hath chosen a new new love, And shee will have none of thee. "If shee had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene her shame; But she hath chose her a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame." If this be true, thou Aldingar, The tyding thou tellest to me, Then will I make thee a rich rich knight, Rich both of golde and fee. But if it be false, Sir Aldingar, As God nowe grant it bee! Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, Shall hang on the gallows tree. He brought our king to the queenes chambèr, And opend to him the dore. A lodlye love, King Harry says, For our queene dame Elinore! If thou were a man, as thou art none, Here on my sword thoust dye; But a payre of new gallowes shall be built, And there shalt thou hang on hye. Forth then hyed our king, I wysse, And an angry man was hee; And soone he found Queen Elinore, That bride so bright of blee. Now God you save, our queene, madame, And Christ you save and see; Heere you have chosen a newe newe love, And you will have none of mee. If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had been your shame; But you have chose you a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame. Therfore a fyer there shalt be built, And brent all shalt thou bee.-- Now out alacke! said our comly queene, Sir Aldingar's false to mee. Now out alacke! sayd our comlye queene, My heart with griefe will brast. I had thought swevens had never been true; I have proved them true at last. I dreamt in my sweven on Thursday eve, In my bed whereas I laye. I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beast Had carryed my crowne awaye; My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, And all my faire head-geere: And he wold worrye me with his tush And to his nest y-beare: Saving there came a little 'gray' hawke, A merlin him they call, Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, That dead he downe did fall.