The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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One while he spread his armes him fro.
And cryed so pittyouslye: c For the mayden's love that I have most minde
This day shall comfort mee, Or else ere noone I shall be dead !'
Thus can Sir Cawline say.
When the parish mass that itt was done, And the King was bowne to dine,
Says, ' Where is Sir Cawline, that was wont To serve me with ale and wine ?f
But then answer'd a curteous knight
Fast his hands wringmge: ' Sir Cawline 's sicke and like to be dead
Without and a good 1eechinge.'
' Feitch ye downe my daughter deere,
She is a leeche full fine ; Ay, and take you doe and the bakcn bread,
And [drinke he of] the wine soe red, And looke no daynty's for him too dcare,
For full loth I wo'ld him tine.'
This ladye is gone to his chamber,
Her maydens following nye; ' O well,' she saith, ' how doth my lord ?'
' O sicke ! ' againe saith hee.
bowne] made ready, gone.              without and, &c.] unless he
have a good leech, or physician. tine] lose.,
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