This was in the reign of Richard II. No fight, however, took place, owing to the interference of the king. Our minstrel author may have had rather confused historical ideas, and so mixed up certain passages in De la Mare’s history with this squabble; and we are strongly inclined to suspect that such is the case, and that it will be found the real clue to the story. Vide Hume’s _History of England_, chap. XVII. A.D. 1398. Lyle acknowledges that he has taken some liberties with the oral version, but does not state what they were, beyond that they consisted merely in ‘smoothing down.’ Would that he had left it ‘in the _rough_!’ The last verse has every appearance of being apocryphal; it looks like one of those benedictory verses with which minstrels were, and still are, in the habit of concluding their songs. Lyle says the tune ‘is pleasing, and peculiar to the ballad.’ A homely version, presenting only trivial variations from that of Mr. Lyle, is still printed and sung.] IN the Parliament House, a great rout has been there, Betwixt our good King and the Lord Delaware: Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon, ‘Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?’ ‘What’s your boon,’ says the King, ‘now let me understand?’ ‘It’s, give me all the poor men we’ve starving in this land; And without delay, I’ll hie me to Lincolnshire, To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there. ‘For with hempen cord it’s better to stop each poor man’s breath, Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.’ Up starts a Dutch Lord, who to Delaware did say, ‘Thou deserves to be stabbed!’ then he turned himself away; ‘Thou deserves to be stabbed, and the dogs have thine ears, For insulting our King in this Parliament of peers.’ Up sprang a Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire, ‘In young Delaware’s defence, I’ll fight this Dutch Lord, my sire; ‘For he is in the right, and I’ll make it so appear: Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.’ A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went, For to kill, or to be killed, it was either’s full intent. But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command, The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand; In suspense he paused awhile, scanned his foe before he strake, Then against the King’s armour, his bent sword he brake. Then he sprang from the stage, to a soldier in the ring, Saying, ‘Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring: Though he’s fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare, Even more than this I’d venture for young Lord Delaware.’ Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds, Till he left the Dutch Lord a bleeding in his wounds: This seeing, cries the King to his guards without delay, ‘Call Devonshire down,—take the dead man away!’