The King and Miller of Mansfield
Part the First
Henry, our royal king, would ride a hunting
To the green forest, so pleasant and fair;
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping:
Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repair:
Hawk and hound were unbound, all things prepar’d
For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summer’s day rode the king pleasantly,
With all his princes and nobles each one;
Chasing the hart and hind, and the buck gallantly,
Till the dark evening forc’d all to turn home.
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.
Wandering thus wearily, all alone, up and down,
With a rude miller he met at the last:
Asking the ready way unto fair Nottingham;
Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest,
Yet I think, what I think, sooth for to say,
You do not lightly ride out of your way.
Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king merrily,
Passing thy judgment upon me so brief?
Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to flatter thee;
I guess thee to be but some gentleman thief;
Stand thee back, in the dark; light not adown,
Lest that I presently crack thy knave’s crown.
Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying thus;
I am a gentleman; lodging I lack.
Thou hast not, quoth th’ miller, one groat in thy purse;
All thy inheritance hangs on thy back.
I have gold to discharge all that I call;133
If it be forty pence, I will pay all.
If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller,
I swear 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 enter’d in; after him went the king;
Never came he in so smoky a house.
Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are.
Quoth our king, look your fill, and do not spare.
I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest face;
With my son Richard this night thou shalt lie.
Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth;
Yet it’s best, husband, to deal warily.
Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell?
Show me thy passport, and all shall be well.
Then our king presently, making low courtesy,
With his hat in his hand, thus he did say;
I have no passport, nor never was servitor,
But a poor courtier, rode out of my way:
And for your kindness here offered to me,
I will requite you in every degree.
Then to the miller his wife whispered secretly,
Saying, It seemeth this youth’s of good kin,
Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners;
To turn him out, certainly, were a great sin.
Yea, quoth he, you may see he hath some grace
When he doth speak to his betters in place.
Well, quo’ the miller’s wife, young man, ye’re welcome here;
And, though I say it, well lodgèd shall be:
Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave,
And good brown hempen sheets likewise, quoth she.
Aye, quoth the good man; and when that is done,
Thou shalt lie with no worse than our own son.
This caus’d the king, suddenly, to laugh most heartily,
Till the tears trickled fast down from his eyes.
Then to their supper were they set orderly,
With hot bag-puddings and good apple-pies;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowl,
Which did about the board merrily trowl.
Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink to thee,
And to all courtiers, wherever they be.
I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thank thee heartily
For my welcome in every good degree:
And here, in like manner, I drink to thy son.
Do then, quoth Richard, and quick let it come.
Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoot,
And of his sweetness a little we’ll taste.
A fair ven’son pasty brought she out presently.
Eat, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste.
Here’s dainty lightfoot! In faith, said the king,
I never before eat so dainty a thing.
I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is,
For we do eat of it every day.
In what place, said our king, may be bought like to this?
We never pay penny for it, by my fay:
From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;
Now and then we make bold with our king’s deer.
Then I think, said our king, that it is venison.
Each fool, quoth Richard, full well may know that:
Never are we without two or three in the roof,
Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:
But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou go;
We would not, for two pence, the king should it know.
Doubt not, then said the king, my promised secrecy;
The king shall never know more on’t for me.
A cup of lambs-wool134 they drank unto him then,
And to their beds they passed presently.
The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,
For to seek out the king in every town.
At last, at the miller’s cot, soon they espy’d him out,
As he was mounting upon his fair steed;
To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee;
Which made the miller’s heart wofully bleed;
Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,
Thinking he should have been hang’d, by the Rood.
The king perceiving him fearfully trembling
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he said:
The miller down did fall, crying before them all,
Doubting the king would cut off his head.
But he, his kind courtesy for to requite,
Gave him great living, and dubb’d him a knight.
Part the Second
When as our royal 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 likèd him best.
And now, my lords, quoth the king, I am determined
Against St. George’s next sumptuous feast,
That this old miller, our new confirmed knight,
With his son Richard, shall here be my guest:
For, in this merriment, ’tis my desire
To talk with the jolly knight, and the young squire.
When as the noble lords saw the king’s pleasantness,
They were right joyful and glad in their hearts:
A pursuivant there was sent straight on the business,
The which had oftentimes been in those parts.
When he came to the place, where they did dwell,
His message orderly then ‘gan he tell.
God save your worship, then said the messenger,
And grant your lady her own heart’s desire;
And to your son Richard good fortune and happiness;
That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire.
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say,
You must come to the court on St. George’s day.
Therefore, in any case, fail not to be in place.
I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest:
What should we do there? faith, I am half afraid.
I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang’d at the least.
Nay, quoth the messenger, you do mistake;
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake.
Then said the miller, By my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worship full well.
Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness,
For these happy tidings which thou dost tell.
Let me see, hear thou me; tell to our king,
We’ll wait on his mastership in everything.
The pursuivant smiled at their simplicity,
And, making many legs, took the reward;
And his leave taking with great humility
To the king’s court again he repaired;
Showing unto his grace, merry and free,
The knight’s most liberal gift and bounty.
When he was gone away, thus ‘gan the miller say,
Here come expenses 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 twenty things more.
Tush, sir John, quo’ his wife, why should you fret, or frown?
You shall ne’er be at no charges for me;
For I will turn and trim up my old russet gown,
With everything else as fine as may be;
And on our mill-horses swift we will ride,
With pillows and pannels, as we shall provide.
In this most stately sort, rode they unto the court,
Their jolly son Richard rode foremost of all;
Who set up, for good hap,135 a cock’s feather in his cap,
And so they jetted136 down to the king’s hall;
The merry old miller with hands on his side;
His wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide.
The king and his nobles that heard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant knight with his brave train;
Welcome, sir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady:
Good sir John Cockle, once welcome again:
And so is the squire of courage so free.
Quoth Dick, A bots on you! do you know me?
The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily,
While the king taketh them both by the hand;
With the court-dames and maids, like to the queen of spades,
The miller’s wife did so orderly stand.
A milk-maid’s courtesy at every word;
And down all the folks were set to the board.
There the king royally, in princely majesty,
Sate at his dinner with joy and delight;
When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell,
And in a bowl of wine drank to the knight:
Here’s to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;
Thanking you heartily for my good cheer.
Quoth sir John Cockle, I’ll pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire:
But then, said our king, now I think of a thing;
Some of your lightfoot I would we had here.
Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it,
’Tis knavery to eat it, and then to betray it.
Why art thou angry? quoth our king merrily;
In faith I take it now very unkind:
I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartily.
Quoth Dick, You are like to stay till I have din’d:
You feed us with twatling dishes so small;
Zounds, a black-pudding is better than all.
Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent;
And then the ladies preparèd to dance.
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent
Unto their places the king did advance.
Here with the ladies such sport they did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their sides ache.
Many thanks for their pains did the king give them,
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed;
Among these ladies free, tell me which liketh thee?
Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head:
She’s my love, she’s my life, her will I wed;
She hath sworn I shall have her wedding bed.
Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him,
And of merry Sherwood made him o’erseer;
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearly:
Take heed now you steal no more of my deer:
And once a quarter let’s here have your view;
And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.
Footnotes
133 The king says this.
134 Ale and roasted apples.
135 For good luck.
136 Strutted.