Thus parted we in peace, An hundred pound and one : I went to mistress Milwood's house, And knocking at the door, Who, through her beauty bright, 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,) For why, out of my master's house 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, 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, 'So was Adonis, yet was he 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, 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 |