"'The thrush hath taken him a she, The robin, too, and eke the dove; My Robin hath deserted me, And left me for another love. So here, by brookside, all alone, I sit me down and make my moan. O willow, willow, willow, willow! I'll take me of thy branches fair And twine a wreath to deck my hair.' "But ne'er came herring from the sea, But good as he were in the tide; Young Corydon came o'er the lea, And sat him Phillis down beside. So, presently, she changed her tone, And 'gan to cease her from her moan, 'O willow, willow, willow, willow! Thou mayst e'en keep thy garlands fair, I want them not to deck my hair_.'" "Now, by my faith," cried Little John, "that same is a right good song, and hath truth in it, also." "Glad am I thou likest it, sweet lad," said the Cook. "Now sing thou one also, for ne'er should a man be merry alone, or sing and list not." "Then I will sing thee a song of a right good knight of Arthur's court, and how he cured his heart's wound without running upon the dart again, as did thy Phillis; for I wot she did but cure one smart by giving herself another. So, list thou while I sing: THE GOOD KNIGHT AND HIS LOVE "_When Arthur, King, did rule this land, A goodly king was he, And had he of stout knights a band Of merry company. "Among them all, both great and small, A good stout knight was there, A lusty childe, and eke a tall, That loved a lady fair. "But nought would she to do with he, But turned her face away; So gat he gone to far countrye, And left that lady gay. "There all alone he made his moan, And eke did sob and sigh, And weep till it would move a stone, And he was like to die. "But still his heart did feel the smart, And eke the dire distress, And rather grew his pain more sharp As grew his body less. "Then gat he back where was good sack And merry com panye, And soon did cease to cry 'Alack!' When blithe and gay was he. "From which I hold, and feel full bold To say, and eke believe, That gin the belly go not cold The heart will cease to grieve_." "Now, by my faith," cried the Cook, as he rattled the pottle against the sideboard, "I like that same song hugely, and eke the motive of it, which lieth like a sweet kernel in a hazelnut" "Now thou art a man of shrewd opinions," quoth Little John, "and I love thee truly as thou wert my brother." "And I love thee, too. But the day draweth on, and I have my cooking to do ere our master cometh home; so let us e'en go and settle this brave fight we have in hand." "Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "and that right speedily. Never have I been more laggard in fighting than in eating and drinking. So come thou straight forth into the passageway, where there is good room to swing a sword, and I will try to serve thee."