Thus parted we in peace,
And home I passed right;
Then went abroad and gathered in,
By six o'clock at night,

An hundred pound and one :
With bag under my arm

I went to mistress Milwood's house,
And thought on little harm;

And knocking at the door,
Straightway herself came down,
Rustling in most brave attire,
Her hood and silken gown.

Who, through her beauty bright,
So gloriously did shine,
That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes,

She seemed so divine.

She took me by the hand,

And with a modest grace,

Welcome, sweet Barnwel, (then quoth she,)

• Unto this homely place.

'Welcome ten thousand times,

'More welcome than my brother;

́ And better welcome, I protest

‹ Than any one or other.

And seeing I have thee found 'As good as thy word to be, 'A homely supper, ere thou part, 'Thou shalt take here with me.'

'O pardon me, (quoth I,)
'Fair mistress, I you pray;

For why, out of my master's house
'So long I dare not stay?'

Alas; good sir, (she said,)

'Are you so strictly tied,

'You may not with your dearest friend

6

'One hour or two abide ?

Faith, then the case is hard; 'If it be so, (quoth she ;)

'I would I were a prentice bound, 'To live in house with thee.

'Therefore, my sweetest George, ' List well what I do say,

'And do not blame a woman much 'Her fancy to bewray :

With that she turn'd aside,
And with a blushing red,
A mournful motion she bewray'd
By holding down her head.

A handkerchief she had,

All wrought with silk and gold: Which she, to stay her trickling tears, Against her eyes did hold.

This thing unto my sight

Was wond'rous rare and strange; And in my mind and inward thought It wrought a sudden change :

That I so hardy was

To take her by the hand;

Saying, Sweet mistress, why do you

'So sad and heavy stand?'

'Call me no mistress now,

'But Sarah, thy true friend,

'Thy servant Sarah, honouring thee 'Until her life doth end.

'If thou would'st here alledge,
'Thou art in years a boy;

'So was Adonis, yet was he
'Fair Venus' love and joy.'

Thus I, that ne'er before

Of woman found such grace; And seeing now so fair a dame Give me a kind embrace.

I sup'd with her that night,
With joys that did abound;
And for the same paid presently
In money twice three pound.

An hundred kisses then

For my farewell she gave; Saying, Sweet Barnwel, when shall I 'Again thy company have?

'O stay not too long, my dear;

Sweet George, have me in mind.' Her words bewitch'd my childishness,

She uttered them so kind :

So that I made a vow,

Next Sunday, without fail, With my sweet Sarah once again To tell some pleasant tale.

When she heard me say so,

*

The tears fell from her eye;' 'O George, (quoth she) if thou dost fail, · Thy Sarah sure will die.'

Though long, yet lo! at last,

The 'pointed day was come, That I must with my Sarah meet: Having a mighty sum

Of money in my hand,

Unto her house went I ; Whereas my love upon her bed In saddest sort did lie.

What ails my heart's delight,

My Sarah dear? (quoth I);

'Let not my love lament and grieve,

'Nor sighing, pine, and die.

'But tell to me, my dearest friend, 'What may thy woes amend;

* Eyes, O. CC.

· And thou shalt seek no means of help,

With that she turn'd her head,

And sickly thus did say,

'Oh, my sweet George, my grief is great,

'Unto a cruel wretch;

And God he knows, (quoth she) 'I have it not.'- Tush, rise, (quoth he) ' And take it here of me.

Ten pounds, nor ten times ten, 'Shall make my love decay.' Then from his bag into her lap, He cast ten pound straightway.

All blithe and pleasant then,

To banqueting they go;

She proffered him to lie with her,

And said it should be so.

Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once,

All which I did purloin.

And thus I did pass on;

Until my master then

Did call to have his reckoning in
Cast up among his men.