King, Truce I cry, quoth _Alfred_ then, Good Shepherd hold thy Hand: A sturdier Fellow than thy self, Lives not within this Land. Nor a lustier Roister than thou art, The churlish Shepherd said, To tell thee plain, thy Thievish looks, Now makes my Heart afraid. Else sure thou art some Prodigal, Which hast consum'd thy store; And now com'st wand'ring in this place, To rob and steal for more. Deem not of me, then quoth our King, Good Shepherd in this sort; A Gentleman well known I am, In good King _Alfred's_ Court. The Devil thou art, the Shepherd said, Thou goest in Rags all torn; Thou rather seem'st, I think to be, Some Beggar basely born. But if thou wilt mend thy Estate, And here a Shepherd be; At Night to _Gillian_ my sweet Wife, Thou shalt go home with me. For she's as good a Toothless Dame, As mumbleth on Brown Bread; Where thou shalt lie on hurden Sheets, Upon a fresh Straw Bed. Of Whig and Whey, we have good store, And keep good Pease-straw Fires; And now and then good Barly Cakes, As better Days requires. But for my Master which is Chief, And Lord of _Newton_ Court; He keeps I say, his Shepherds Swains, In far more braver sort. We there have Curds, and clouted Cream, Of Red Cows morning Milk; And now and then fine Buttered Cakes, As soft as any Silk. Of Beef and reised Bacon store, That is most Fat and Greasy; We have likewise to feast our Chaps, And make them glib and easie. Thus if thou wilt my Man become, This usage thou shalt have; If not, adieu, go hang thy self, And so farewel Sir Knave. King _Alfred_ hearing of this Glee, The churlish Shepherd said; Was well content to be his Man, So they a Bargain made. A Penny round, the Shepherd gave, In earnest of this Match; To keep his Sheep in Field and fold, As Shepherds use to watch. His Wages shall be full Ten Groats, For Service of a Year; Yet was it not his use, old Lad, To hire a Man so dear. For did the King himself (quoth he) Unto my Cottage come; He should not for a Twelvemonths Pay, Receive a greater Sum. Hereat the bonny King grew blith, To hear the clownish Jest; How silly sots, as custom is, Do discant at the best. But not to spoil the Foolish sport, He was content good King; To fit the Shepherd's humour right, In every kind of thing. A Sheep-hook then, with _Patch_ his Dog, And Tar-box by his side; He with his Master, jig by jowl, Unto old _Gillian_ hy'd. Into whose sight no sooner came, Whom have you here (quoth she) A Fellow I doubt, will cut our Throats, So like a Knave looks he. Not so old Dame, quoth _Alfred_ strait, Of me you need not fear; My Master hir'd me for Ten Groats, To serve you one whole Year. So good Dame _Gillian_ grant me leave, Within your House to stay; For by St. _Ann_, do what you can, I will not yet away. Her churlish usage pleas'd him still, Put him to such a Proof, That he at Night was almost choak'd, Within that smoaky Roof.