HENRY, our royall king, would ride a hunting
To the greene forest so pleasant and faire;
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping,
Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire :
Hawke and hound were unbound, all things prepared
For the game, in the same, with good regard.

All a long summer's day rode the king pleasantlye,
With all his princes and nobles eche one,
Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the dark evening forced all to turne home.
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.

Wandering thus wearilye, all alone up and downe,
With a rude miller he mett at the last;
Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham,
"Sir,” quoth the miller, “I meane not to jest ;
Yet I thinke what I thinke, sooth for to say;
You doe not lightlye ride out of your way."

"Why, what dost thou think of me," quoth our king merrily,
"Passing thy judgment upon me so briefe ?"

"Good faith," sayd the miller, “I mean not to flatter thee;
I guess thee to bee but some gentleman thiefe ;

Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne,
Lest that I presentlye crack thy knave's crowne."

"Thou dost abuse me much," quoth the king, "saying thus; I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke.”

"Thou hast not," quoth the miller, "one groat in thy purse; All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe."

"I have gold to discharge all that I call;

If it be forty pence, I will pay all."

"If thou beest a true man," then quoth the miller,
"I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night."
"Here's my hand," quoth the king: "that was I ever."

‘Nay, soft,” quoth the miller, "thou may'st be a sprite. Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; With none but honest men hands will I take."

Thus they went all along unto the miller's house,
Where they were seething of puddings and souse;
The miller first entered in, after him went the king;
Never came hee in soe smoakye a house.

"Now," quoth hee, "let me see here what you are."
Quoth the king, "Looke your fill, and doe not spare."

"I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest face:
With my son Richard this night thou shalt lye."
Quoth his wife, "By my troth, it is a handsome youth,
Yet it's best, husband, to deal warilye.

Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell?
Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well."

Then our king, presentlye, making lowe courtesye,
With his hatt in his hand, thus he did say:
"I have no passport, nor never was servitor,
But a poor courtyer, rode out of my way :
And for your kindness here offered to mee,
I will requite you in everye degree."

Then to the miller his wife whispered secretlye,
Saying, "It seemeth, this youth's of good kin,
Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners;
To turn him out, certainlye were a great sin."

"Yea," quoth hee, "you may see he hath some grace,

When he doth speake to his betters in place."

"Well," quo' the millers wife, “young man, ye're welcome here; And, though I say it, well lodged shall be:

Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave,

And good brown hempen sheets likewise," quoth shee. "Aye," quoth the good man, "and when that is done, Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own sonne."

This caused the king suddenlye to laugh most heartilye,
Till the teares trickled fast downe from his eyes.

Then to their supper were they set orderlye,

With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes; Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, Which did about the board merrilye trowle.

"Here," quoth the miller, "good fellowe, I drink to thee, And to all courtnalls that courteous be."

"I pledge thee," quoth our king, "and thanke thee heartlye For my good welcome in everye degree:

And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne."

"Do then," quoth Richard, "and quicke let it come."

"Wife," quoth the miller, "fetch me forth light-foote, And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste."

A fair ven❜son pastye brought she out presentlye,

"Eate," quoth the miller, "but, sir, make no waste. Here's dainty light-foote!" "In faith," sayd the king, "I never before eat so daintye a thing."

"I-wis," quoth Richard, "no daintye at all it is,

For we doe eate of it everye day."

"In what place," sayd our king, "may be bought like to this?" "We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay;

From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;

Now and then we make bold with our kings deer."

"Then I thinke," sayd our king, "that it is venison."

"Eche foole," quoth Richard, "full well may know that:

Never are wee without two or three in the roof,
Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:

But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou goe;

We would not, for two pence, the king should it knowe."

"Doubt not," then sayd the king, "my promist secresye;
The king shall never know more on't for mee."
A cupp of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then,
And to their bedds they past presentlie.

The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,
For to seeke out the king in everye towne.

At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd him out,
As he was mounting upon his faire steede ;

To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee;
Which made the millers heart wofully bleede;

Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,

Thinking he should have been hanged, by the rood.

The king, perceiving him fearfully trembling,
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed:

The miller then downe did fall, crying before them all,
Doubting the king would have cut off his head.
But he is kind courtesye for to requite,

Gave him great living, and dubbed him a knight.

PART THE SECONDE.

When as our royall king came home from Nottingham,
And with his nobles at Westminster lay,
Recounting the sports and pastimes they had taken,
In this late progress along on the way,
Of them all, great and small, he did protest,

The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best.

"And now, my lords," quoth the king, "I am determined Against St. Georges next sumptuous feast,

That this old miller, our new confirméd knight,
With his son Richard, shall here be my guest:
For, in this merryment, 'tis my desire

To talke with the jolly knight, and the young squire."

When as the noble lords saw the kinges pleasantness,
They were right joyfull and glad in their hearts:
A pursuivant there was sent straighte on the business,
The which had often-times been in those parts.

When he came to the place where they did dwell,
His message orderlye then gan he tell.

"God save your worshipe," then said the messenger,
"And grant your ladye her own hearts desire;
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happiness,
That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire.

Our king greets you well, and thus doth he say,
You must come to the court on St. George's day.

"Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place."
"I-wis," quoth the miller, "this is an odd jest:
What should we doe there? faith, I am halfe afraid.”
"I doubt," quoth Richard, "to be hanged at the least."
"Nay," quoth the messenger, "you doe mistake;
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake."

Then sayd the miller, "By my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worshippe full well :
Hold, here are three farthings to 'quite thy gentleness,
For these happy tydings which thou dost tell.
Let me see, hear thou mee; tell to our king,
We'll wayt on his mastershipp in everye thing."

The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye,
And making many leggs, tooke their reward,
And his leave taking with great humilitye,

To the kings court againe he repaired;
Shewing unto his grace, merry and free,
The knightes most liberall gift and bountié.

When he was gone away, thus gan the miller say:

"Here come expences and charges indeed;

Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all we have,

For of new garments we have great need.

Of horses and serving-men we must have store,

With bridles and saddles, and twentye things more."

"Tushe, Sir John," quoth his wife, "why should you frett or frowne?

You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee;

For I will turne and trim up my old russet gown,
With everye thing else as fine as may bee;