The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

80
Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu!
You see what conies of fooling:
That is the fittest place for you;
Your courage wanted cooling.
Ere many days, in her fathers park,
Just at the close of eve-a,
Again she met with her angry sparke;
Which made this lady grieve-a.
False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,
And no one now can hear thee:
And thou shalt sorely rue the hour
That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me.
I pray, sir knight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a:
I vow and swear I thought no harm,
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.
A gentle jest, in soothe he cry'd,
To tumble me in and leave me!
What if I had in the river dy'd?--
That fetch will not deceive me.
Once more I'll pardon thee this day,
Tho' injur'd out of measure;
But thou prepare without delay
To yield thee to my pleasure.
Well then, if I must grant your suit,
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir
Let me pull off both spur and boot,
Or else you cannot stir, sir.
He set him down upon the grass,
And begg'd her kind assistance:
Now, smiling, thought this lovely lass,
I'll make you keep your distance.
Then pulling off his boots half-way;