"In the fowrthe korner was oon Of Babylone the sowdan sonne, The amerayle's dowghter hym by, For hys sake the cloth was wrowght, She loved hym in hert and thowght, As testy-moyeth thys storye. The fayr mayden her byforn Was purtrayed an unykorn, With hys horn so hye, Flowres and bryddes on ylke a syde, Wyth stones that wer sowght wyde, Stuffed wyth ymagerye. "When the cloth to ende was wrought, To the sowdan sone hit was browght, That semely was of syghte: 'My fadyr was a nobyll man, Of the sowdan he hit wan, Wyth maystrye and myghth; For gret love he yaf hyt me, I brynge hit the in specyalte, Thys cloth ys rychely dyght.' He yaf hit the Emperour, He receyved hit wyth gret honour, And thonkede hym fayr and ryght." We must not dismiss this subject without recording a species of mantle much celebrated in romance, and which must have tried the skill and patience of the fair votaries of the needle to the uttermost. We all have seen, perhaps we have some of us been foolish enough to manufacture, initials with hair, as tokens or souvenirs, or some other such fooleries. In our mothers' and grandmothers' days, when "fine marking" was the _sine qua non_ of a good education, whole sets of linen were thus elaborately marked; and often have we marvelled when these tokens of grandmotherly skill and industry were displayed to our wondering and aching eyes. What then should we have thought of King Ryence's mantle, of rich scarlet, bordered round with the beards of kings, sewed thereon full craftily by accomplished female hands. Thus runs the anecdote in the 'Morte Arthur:'-- "Came a messenger hastely from King Ryence, of North Wales, saying, that King Ryence had discomfited and overcomen eleaven kings, and everiche of them did him homage, and that was thus: they gave him their beards cleane flayne off,--wherefore the messenger came for King Arthur's beard, for King Ryence had purfeled a mantell with king's beards, and there lacked for one a place of the mantell, wherefore he sent for his beard, or else he would enter into his lands, and brenn and slay, and never leave till he have thy head and thy beard. 'Well,' said King Arther, 'thou hast said thy message, which is the most villainous and lewdest message that ever man heard sent to a king. Also thou mayest see my beard is full young yet for to make a purfell of; but tell thou the king that--or it be long--he shall do to _me_ homage on both his knees, or else he shall leese his head.'" In Queen Elizabeth's day, when they were beginning to skim the cream of the ponderous tomes of former times into those elaborate ditties from which the more modern ballad takes its rise, this incident was put into rhyme, and was sung before her majesty at the grand entertainment at Kenilworth Castle, 1575, thus:--