Then courage, noble Englishmen, And never be dismayed: If that we be but one to ten, We will not be afraid To fight with foreign enemies, And set our nation free. And thus I end the bloody bout Of brave lord Willoughbey. FOOTNOTES: [124] Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughbey of Eresby, died 1601. [125] A kind of gun. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. An ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right. And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury; How for his house-keeping, and high renown, They rode post for him to fair London town. An hundred men, the king did hear say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty gold chains, without any doubt, In velvet coats waited the abbot about. How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee, Thou keepest a far better house than me, And for thy house-keeping and high renown, I fear thou work'st treason against my crown. My liege, quoth the abbot, I would it were known, I never spend nothing, but what is my own; And I trust, your grace will do me no deer,[126] For spending of my own true-gotten gear. Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high, And now for the same thou needest must die; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy body. And first, quoth the king, when I'm in this stead,[127] With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birth, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth. Secondly, tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride the whole world about. And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think. O, these are hard questions for my shallow wit, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet: But if you will give me but three weeks' space, I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace. Now three weeks' space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me. [Illustration: KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.] Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he met his shepherd a going to fold: How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What news do you bring us from good king John? Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give; That I have but three days more to live: For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my body.