Shee is a bitch and a witch, And a whore bold: King, in thine owne hall Thou art a cuckold." 150
The little boy stoode Looking out a dore; 'And there as he was lookinge He was ware of a wyld bore.'
He was ware of a wyld bore, 155 Wold have werryed a man: He pulld forth a wood kniffe, Fast thither that he ran: He brought in the bores head, And quitted him like a man. 160
He brought in the bores head, And was wonderous bold: He said there was never a cuckolds kniffe Carve itt that cold.
Some rubbed their knives 165 Uppon a whetstone: Some threw them under the table, And said they had none.
King Arthur and the child Stood looking them upon; 170 All their knives edges Turned backe againe.
Craddocke had a little knive Of iron and of steele; He britled[L175] the bores head 175 Wonderous weele, That every knight in the kings court Had a morssell.
The little boy had a horne, Of red gold that ronge: 180 He said there was "noe cuckolde Shall drinke of my horne, But he shold it sheede, Either behind or beforne."
Some shedd on their shoulder, 185 And some on their knee; He that cold not hitt his mouthe, Put it in his eye: And he that was a cuckold Every man might him see. 190
Craddocke wan the horne, And the bores head: His ladie wan the mantle Unto her meede.
Everye such a lovely ladye 195 God send her well to speede.
MS. Ver. 7, branches.
V. 18, heate.
V. 21, poterver.
MS. V. 32, his wiffe.
V. 34, bided.
V. 41, gaule.
MS. Ver. 75, lauged.
MS. Ver. 134, wright.
V. 136, cleare.
MS. V. 175, Or birtled.
THE HORN OF KING ARTHUR.
MS. Ashmole, 61, fol. 59 to 62.
This amusing piece was first published entire in Hartshorne's _Ancient Metrical Tales_, p. 209, but with great inaccuracies. It is there called _The Cokwolds Daunce_. A few extracts had previously been given from the MS., in the Notes to _Orfeo and Heurodis_, in Laing's _Early Popular Poetry of Scotland_. Mr. Wright contributed a corrected edition to Karajan's _Fruhlingsgabe fur Freunde alterer Literatur_.
That work not being at the moment obtainable, the Editor was saved from the necessity of reprinting or amending a faulty text, by the kindness of J.O. Halliwell, Esq., who sent him a collation of Hartshorne's copy with the Oxford manuscript.
All that wyll of solas lere, Herkyns now, and [z]e schall here, And [z]e kane vnderstond; Off a bowrd I wyll [z]ou schew, That ys full gode and trew, 5 That fell some tyme in Ynglond.
Kynge Arthour was off grete honour, Off castellis and of many a toure, And full wyde iknow; A gode ensample I wyll [z]ou sey, 10 What chanse befell hym one a dey; Herkyn to my saw!
Cokwoldes he louyd, as I [z]ou ply[z]t; He honouryd them, both dey and nyght, In all maner of thyng; 15 And as I rede in story, He was kokwold sykerly; Ffor sothe it is no lesyng.
Herkyne, seres, what I sey; Her may [z]e here solas and pley, 20 Iff [z]e wyll take gode hede; Kyng Arthour had a bugyll horn, That ever mour stod hym be forn, Were so that ever he [z]ede.
Ffor when he was at the bord sete, 25 Anon the horne schuld be fette[L26], Ther off that he myght drynk; Ffor myche crafte he couth thereby, And ofte tymes the treuth he sey; Non other couth he thynke. 30
Iff any cokwold drynke of it, Spyll he schuld, withouten lette; Therfor thei wer not glade; Gret dispyte thei had therby, Because it dyde them vilony, 35 And made them oft tymes sade.
When the kyng wold hafe solas, The bugyll was fett[L38] into the plas, To make solas and game; And then changyd the cokwoldes chere; 40 The kyng them callyd ferre and nere, Lordynges, by ther name.
Than men myght se game inow[z]e, When every cokwold on other leu[z]e, And [z]it thei schamyd sore: 45 Where euer the cokwoldes wer sought, Befor the kyng thei were brought, Both lesse and more.
Kyng Arthour than, verament, Ordeynd, throw hys awne assent, 50 Ssoth as I [z]ow sey, The tabull dormounte withouten lette; Ther at the cokwoldes wer sette, To have solas and pley.
Ffor at the bord schuld be non other 55 Bot euery cokwold and his brother[L56]; To tell treuth I must nedes; And when the cokwoldes wer sette, Garlandes of wylos sculd be fette, And sett vpon ther hedes. 60
Off the best mete, withoute lesyng, That stode on bord befor the kyng, Both ferr and nere, To the cokwoldes he sente anon, And bad them be glad euerychon, 65 Ffor his sake make gode chere.
And seyd, "Lordyngs, for [z]our lyues, Be neuer the wrother with [z]our wyues, Ffor no manner of nede: Off women com duke and kyng; 70 I [z]ow tell without lesyng, Of them com owre manhed.
So it befell sertenly, The duke off Glosseter com in hy[z]e, To the courte with full gret my[z]ht; 75 He was reseyued at the kyngs palys, With mych honour and grete solas, With lords that were well dyg[z]ht.
With the kyng ther dyde he dwell, Bot how long I can not tell, 80 Therof knaw I non name; Off kyng Arthour a wonder case, Frendes, herkyns how it was, Ffor now begynes game.
Vppon a dey, withouten lette, 85 The duke with the kyng was sette, At mete with mykill pride; He lukyd abowte wonder faste, Hys syght on euery syde he caste To them that sate besyde. 90
The kyng aspyed the erle anon, And fast he low[z]he the erle vpon, And bad he schuld be glad; And yet, for all hys grete honour, Cokwold was Kyng Arthour, 95 Ne galle non he had.
So at the last, the duke he brayd, And to the kyng thes wordes sayd[L98]; He myght no longer forbere; "Syr, what hath thes men don, 100 That syche garlondes thei were vpon?
That skyll wold I lere."
The kyng seyd the erle to, "Syr, non hurte they haue do, Ffor this was thru[z]h a chans. 105 Sertes thei be fre men all, Ffor non of them hath no gall; Therfor this is ther penans.
"Ther wyves hath ben merchandabull, And of ther ware compenabull; 110 Methinke it is non herme; A man of lufe that wold them craue, Hastely he schuld it haue, Ffor thei couth not hym wern.
"All theyr wyves, sykerlyke, 115 Hath vsyd the backefysyke[L116], Whyll thes men were oute; And ofte they haue draw that draught, To vse well the lechers craft, With rubyng of ther toute. 120
"Syr," he seyd, "now haue I redd; Ete we now, and make vs glad, And euery man fle care;"
The duke seyd to hym anon, "Than be thei cokwoldes, everychon;" 125 The kyng seyd, "hold the there."
The kyng than, after the erlys word, Send to the cokwolds bord, To make them mery among, All manner of mynstralsy, 130 To glad the cokwolds by and by With herpe, fydell, and song: