"And of that thank your head steward, And after, your gay lady." "If it be true, my little foot-page, I'll make thee heir of all my land." (_deemed_, doomed.) "If it be not true, my dear master, God let me never the:" "If it be not true, thou little foot-page, A dead corse shalt thou be." He called down his head cooks-man, Cook in kitchen supper to dress: "All and anon, my dear master, Anon at your request." "And call you down my fair lady This night to sup with me." And down then came that fair lady, Was clad all in purple and pall: The rings that were upon her fingers, Cast light thorow the hall. "What is your will, my own wed lord? What is your will with me?" "I am sick, fair lady, Sore sick and like to die." "But and you be sick, my own wed lord, So sore it grieveth me: But my five maidens and myself Will go and make your bed. "And at the wakening of your first sleep, You shall have a hot drink made; And at the wakening of your next sleep Your sorrows will have a slake." (_the_, prosper.) He put a silk coat on his back, Was thirteen inches fold; And put a steel cap upon his head, Was gilded with good red gold. And he laid a bright brown sword by his side, And another at his feet: And full well knew old Robin then Whether he should wake or sleep. And about the middle time of the night, Came twenty-four good knights; Sir Gyles he was the foremost man, So well he knew that gin. Old Robin with a bright brown sword, Sir Gyles' head he did win; So did he all those twenty-four Never a one went quick out [agen]. None but one little foot-page, Crept forth at a window of stone; And he had two arms when he came in, And [when he went out he had none]. Up then came that lady gay, With torches burning bright; She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drink, But she found her own wed knight. (_gin_, trick.) And the first thing that this lady stumbled upon Was of Sir Gyles his foot' Says, "Ever alack, and woe is me! Here lies my sweet heart-root." And the second thing that this lady stumbled on Was of Sir Gyles his head; Says, "Ever alack, and woe is me! Here lies my true love dead." He cut the paps beside her breast, And bade her wish her will; And he cut the ears beside her head And bade her wish on still. Mickle is the man's blood I have spent, To do thee and me some good; Says, "Ever alack, my fair lady, I think that I was wood!" He called then up his little foot-page, And made him heir of all his land; And he shope the cross on his right shoulder, Of the white flesh and the red, And he went him into the holy land, Whereas Christ was quick and dead. (_shope_, shaped, cut. _wood_, mad.) [Illustration: 08224] CAPTAIN CAR, OR EDOM O' GORDON.