Reliques of ancient English poetry: consisting of old heroic ballads ...

A N D B A L LADS. 147
She knockes again with might and maine,
And Lot he chides her firaite.
How now, quoth me, thou drunken afs, 35
Who bade thee here to prate ?
With thy two daughters thou didft lye,
On them two bailardes got.
And thus moft tauntingly fhe chaft
Againft poor filly Lot. 40
Who calleth there, quoth Judith then,
With fuch Ihrill founding notes ?
This fine minkes furely came not here,
Quoth me, for cutting throats.
Good Lord, how Judith bluih'd for ihame, 45
When me heard her fay foe !
King David hearing of the fame,
He to the gate would goe.
Quoth David, Who knockes there fo loud,
And maketh all this ftrife ? 50
You were more kinde, good Sir, Ihe fayd,
Unto Uriah's wife.
And when thy fervant thou didft caufe
In battle to be flaine
;
Thou caufedft far more ftrife than I, 55
Who would come here fo faine.
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