Early on a summer’s morning, When bright Phoebus was adorning Every bower with his beams, The fair lady came, it seems. At the bottom of a mountain, Near a pleasant crystal fountain, There she left her gilded coach, While the grove she did approach. Covered with her mask, and walking, There she met her lover talking With a friend that he had brought; So she asked him whom he sought. ‘I am challenged by a gallant, Who resolves to try my talent; Who he is I cannot say, But I hope to show him play.’ ‘It is I that did invite you, You shall wed me, or I’ll fight you, Underneath those spreading trees; Therefore, choose you which you please. ‘You shall find I do not vapour, I have brought my trusty rapier; Therefore, take your choice,’ said she, ‘Either fight or marry me.’ Said he, ‘Madam, pray what mean you? In my life I’ve never seen you; Pray unmask, your visage show, Then I’ll tell you aye or no.’ ‘I will not my face uncover Till the marriage ties are over; Therefore, choose you which you will, Wed me, sir, or try your skill. ‘Step within that pleasant bower, With your friend one single hour; Strive your thoughts to reconcile, And I’ll wander here the while.’ While this beauteous lady waited, The young bachelors debated What was best for to be done: Quoth his friend, ‘The hazard run. ‘If my judgment can be trusted, Wed her first, you can’t be worsted; If she’s rich, you’ll rise to fame, If she’s poor, why! you’re the same.’ He consented to be married; All three in a coach were carried To a church without delay, Where he weds the lady gay. Though sweet pretty Cupids hovered Round her eyes, her face was covered With a mask,—he took her thus, Just for better or for worse. With a courteous kind behaviour, She presents his friend a favour, And withal dismissed him straight, That he might no longer wait. PART IV. SHOWING HOW THEY RODE TOGETHER IN HER GILDED COACH TO HER NOBLE SEAT, OR CASTLE, ETC. As the gilded coach stood ready, The young lawyer and his lady Rode together, till they came To her house of state and fame; Which appearèd like a castle, Where you might behold a parcel Of young cedars, tall and straight, Just before her palace gate. Hand in hand they walked together, To a hall, or parlour, rather, Which was beautiful and fair,— All alone she left him there. Two long hours there he waited Her return;—at length he fretted, And began to grieve at last, For he had not broke his fast. Still he sat like one amazed, Round a spacious room he gazed, Which was richly beautified; But, alas! he lost his bride.