Here's Joan Cromwell's kitching-stuff tub,
Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers,

With which old Noll's horns fhe did rub,
When he was got drunk with false bumpers.

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's the purfe of the public faith;

Here's the model of the Sequestration,

When the old wives upon their good troth,
Lent thimbles to ruine the nation.

Here's Dick Cromwell's Protectorship,

And here are Lambert's commiffions,

And here is Hugh Peters his fcrip

go

95

Cramm'd with the tumultuous Petitions.
Says old Simon, &c.

And here are old Noll's brewing veffels,
And here are his dray, and his flings;
Here are Hewfon's awl, and his bristles;

With diverfe other odd things: ;
And what is the price doth belong

To all these matters before ye?
I'll fell them all for an old fong,
And fo I do end my story.

Says old Simon, &c.

100

105

Ver. 86. This was a cant name given to Cromwell's wife by the Royalifts, the' her name was Elizabeth. She was taxed with exchanging the kitchen-ftuff for the candles ufed in the Protector`s boufhold, &c. See Gent. Mag. for March, 1788, p. 242.

Ver. 94. See Grey's Hudibras, Pt. I. Cant. 2. ver. 570, &c.

Ver. 100, 102. Cromwell had in his younger years followed the brewing trade at Huntingdon. Col. Herfon is faid to have been originally a cobler.

XV. THE

XV.

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY'S POLICY,

Given (with fome corrections) from a MS. copy, and collated with two printed ones in Roman character in the Pepys collection.

THE

HERE was a knight was drunk with wine,
A riding along the way, fir;
And there he inet with a lady fine,
Among the cocks of hay, fir.

Shall you and I, O lady faire,
Among the grafs lye down-a:
And I will have a special care

Of rumpling of your gowne-a.

Upon the grafs there is a dewe,

Will fpoil my damask gowne, fir:
My gowne, and kirtle they are newe,
And coft me many a crowne, fir.

I have a cloak of scarlet red,
Upon the ground I'll throwe it;
Then, lady faire, come lay thy head;
We'll play, and none fhall knowe it.

10

15

O yonder

O yonder stands my steed fo free

Among the cocks of hay, fir;

And if the pinner should chance to fee,

He'll take my steed away, fir.

Upon my finger I have a ring,
Its made of finest gold-a;
And, lady, it thy fteed fhall bring
Out of the pinner's fold-a.

O go with me to my father's hall;
Fair chambers there are three, fir:
And you shall have the best of all,

20

25

And I'll your chamberlaine bee, fir:

C

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on her dapple gray, fir:

30

And there they rode to her father's hall,
Fast pricking along the way, fir.

To her father's hall they arrived strait;
'Twas moated round about-a;

She flipped herself within the gate,

35

And lockt the knight without-a.

Here is a filver penny to spend,

And take it for your pain, fir;
And two of my father's men I'll fend
To wait on you back again, fir.

40

He from his fcabbard drew his brand,
And wiped it upon his fleeve-a:
And cursed, he said, be every man,

That will a maid believe-a!

She drew a bodkin from her haire,
And whip'd it upon her gown-a;
And curs'd be every maiden faire,
That will with men lye down-a!

A herb there is, that lowly grows,
And fome do call it rue, fir:
The smallest dunghill cock that crows,
Would make a capon of you,

fir.

A flower there is, that fhineth bright,

Some call it mary-gold-a:

He that wold not when he might,

He shall not when he wold-a.

The knight was riding another day,

45

55

Now, lady faire, I've met with you,
You shall no more escape me;
Remember, how not long agoe
You falfely did intrap me.

The

65

The lady blushed scarlet red,

And trembled at the ftranger: How fhall I guard my maidenhead From this approaching danger?

He from his faddle down did light,

In all his riche attyer;

7༠

And cryed, As I am a noble knight,

Looke yonder, good fir knight, I pray,

Methinks I now discover

A riding upon his dapple gray,

My former condant lover.

On tip-toe peering flood the knight,

Faft by the rivers brink-a;

The lady pult with all her might:

Sir knight, now fwim or fink-a.

O'er head and ears he plunged in,

80

85

The bottom faire he founded;
Then rifing up, he cried amain,
Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded!

Now,