But as he sat with smiling cheer, The event of all to see; His Dame brought forth a piece of Dow, Which in the Fire throws she. Where lying on the Hearth to bake, By chance the Cake did burn; What can'st thou not, thou Lout (quoth she) Take Pains the same to turn: Thou art more quick to take it out, And eat it up half Dow, Than thus to stay till't be enough, And so thy Manners show. But serve me such another Trick, I'll thwack thee on the Snout; Which made the patient King, good Man, Of her to stand in Doubt: But to be brief, to bed they went, The good old Man and's Wife; But never such a Lodging had King _Alfred_ in his Life: For he was laid in white Sheeps Wool, New pull'd from tanned Fells, And o'er his Head hang'd Spiders Webbs, As if they had been Bells. Is this the Country Guise, thought he, Then here I will not stay; But hence be gone as soon as breaks The peeping of the Day. The cackling Hens and Geese kept roost, And perched at his side; Whereat the last the watchful Cock, Made known the Morning Tide. Then up got _Alfred_ with his Horn, And blew so long a Blast, That made _Gillian_ and her Groom, In Bed full sore agast. Arise, quoth she, we are undone, This Night, we lodged have, At unawares within our House, A false dissembling Knave; Rise Husband, rise, he'll cut our Throats, He calleth for his Mates, I'd give old _Will_ our good Cade Lamb, He would depart our Gates. But still King _Alfred_ blew his Horn before them, more and more, 'Till that a hundred Lords and Knights, All lighted at the Door: Which cry'd all hail, all hail good King, Long have we look'd your Grace; And here you find (my merry Men all) Your Sovereign in this place. We shall surely be hang'd up both, Old _Gillian_ I much fear, The Shepherd said, for using thus Our good King _Alfred_ here: O pardon, my Liege, quoth _Gillian_ then, For my Husband and for me, By these ten Bones I never thought The same that now I see: And by my Hook, the Shepherd said, An Oath both good and true, Before this time, O noble King, I never your Highness knew: Then pardon me and my old Wife, That we may after say, When first you came into our House, It was a happy Day. It shall be done, said _Alfred_ streight, And _Gillian_ thy old Dame, For this thy churlish using me, Deserveth not much Blame. For this thy Country Guise I see, To be thus bluntish still, And where the plainest Meaning is, Remains the smallest Ill. And Master, lo I tell thee now, For thy low Manhood shown, A Thousand Weathers I'll bestow Upon thee for thy own. And pasture Ground, as much as will Suffice to feed them all, And this thy Cottage I will change Into a stately Hall. As for the same, as Duty binds, The Shepherd said, good King, A milk white Lamb once every Year, I'll to your Highness bring.