Forth came an old Knight Pattering ore a creede, And he proferr’d to this little Boy Twenty markes to his meede;
And all the time of Christmasse Willingly to ffeede; For why[169] this mantle might Doe his wiffe some need.
When shee had tane the mantle Of cloth that was made, Shee had no more left on her But a tassell and a threed: That every knight in the King’s court Bade evill might shee speed.
She threw downe the mantle, That bright was of blee, Fast with a red rudd To her chamber can she flee.
Craddocke call’d forth his ladye And bade her come in; Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye, With a little dinne[170].
‘Winne this mantle, ladye, And it shal be thine If thou never did amisse Since thou wast mine.’
Forth came Craddocke’s ladye Shortlye and anon, But boldlye to the mantle Then is shee gone.
When she had tane the mantle And cast it her about, Up at her great toe It began to crinkle and crowt[171]: Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle, And shame me not for nought.
‘Once I did amisse, I tell you certainlye, When Craddocke’s mouth I kist Under a greenè tree; When I kist Craddocke’s mouth Before he marryed mee.’
When shee had her shreeven[172] And her sinnes shee had tolde, The mantle stood about her Right as she wo’ld;
Seemelye of coulour, Glittering like gold Then every knight in Arthur’s court Did her behold.
The little Boy stoode Looking over a dore; [There as he look’d He was ware of a wyld bore.]
He was ware of a wyld bore Wo’ld have werryed[173] a man: He pull’d forth a wood-kniffe Fast thither that he ran: He brought in the bore’s head And quitted him like a man.
He brought in the bore’s head, And was wonderous bold; He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffe Carve itt that co’ld.
Some rubb’d their knives Uppon a whetstone; Some threw them under the table, And said they had none.
King Arthur and the child Stood looking them upon; All their knives’ edges Turnèd backe againe.
Craddocke had a litle kniffe Of iron and of steele; He birtled[174] the bore’s head Wonderous weale, That every knight in the King’s court Had a morssell.
The litle Boy had a horne, Of red gold that ronge[175]; He said, ‘There was noe cuckolde Shall drinke of my horne, But he sho’ld itt sheede[176] Either behind or beforne.’