The “Sir Samuel” of this Ballad is the same person—Sir Samuel Luke of Bedfordshire—who is supposed to have been the unconscious model of the portrait which is drawn so much more fully in the inimitable Hudibras. Ralph is also the well-known Squire in the same poem. The Ballad, though published in Butler’s “Posthumous Works,” 1724, was rejected by Thyer in the edition of 1784, and is not included in the “Genuine Remains,” published from the original manuscripts, formerly in the possession of William Longueville, Esq. If not by Butler, it is a successful imitation of his style, and abounds in phrases of sturdy colloquial English, and is of a date long anterior to the popular song, “The Vicar of Bray.” IN Bedfordshire there dwelt a knight, Sir Samuel by name, Who by his feats in civil broils Obtain’d a mighty fame. Nor was he much less wise and stout, But fit in both respects To humble sturdy Cavaliers, And to support the sects. This worthy knight was one that swore He would not cut his beard Till this ungodly nation was From kings and bishops clear’d: Which holy vow he firmly kept, And most devoutly wore A grizly meteor on his face Till they were both no more. His worship was, in short, a man Of such exceeding worth, No pen or pencil can describe, Or rhyming bard set forth. Many and mighty things he did Both sober and in liquor,— Witness the mortal fray between The Cobbler and the Vicar; Which by his wisdom and his power He wisely did prevent, And both the combatants at once In wooden durance pent. The manner how these two fell out And quarrell’d in their ale, I shall attempt at large to show In the succeeding tale. A strolling cobbler, who was wont To trudge from town to town, Happen’d upon his walk to meet A vicar in his gown. And as they forward jogg’d along, The vicar, growing hot, First asked the cobbler if he knew Where they might take a pot? Yes, marry that I do, quoth he; Here is a house hard by, That far exceeds all Bedfordshire For ale and landlady. Thither let’s go, the vicar said; And when they thither came, He liked the liquor wondrous well, But better far the dame. And she, who, like a cunning jilt, Knew how to please her guest, Used all her little tricks and arts To entertain the priest. The cobbler too, who quickly saw The landlady’s design, Did all that in his power was To manage the divine. With smutty jests and merry songs They charm’d the vicar so, That he determined for that night No further he would go. And being fixt, the cobbler thought ’Twas proper to go try If he could get a job or two His charges to supply.