Page:History of the king and the cobbler.pdf/15

 out of bed, put on his cloathes and his conſidering-cap; ſo poſting away to his ſtall, he fell to work upon his old ſhoes and boots, as fierce as a fury, and as blithe as a bird in the returning ſpring, eaſing his fancy with a ſong of his own making.

THOUGH now I ſit within my ſtall,
 * Old ſhoes and ſlippers mending,

I to the court ſhall have a call,
 * There's hope depending.

I do not value cruſty Joan,
 * Though once in tears I woo'd her,

I have the favour, 'tis well known,
 * Of honeſt Harry Tudor:

He gives me forty merks a year,
 * Which is a deal of treaſure:

Beſides all this, there is no fear
 * Of having courtly pleaſure.

I wiſh old Joan ſhe would die,
 * Though once with tears I woo'd her:

I'd go to court and there live by
 * My dear friend Harry Tudor.

Now whilſt the cobbler was making himſelf merry with ſinging this new made ſong, Joan ſuddenly chopp'd upon him and hearing him mention the name of Tudor, ſalutes him in this manner, 'Out you drunken ſcoundrel, are ye going toudoring it again, I thought ye had got enough yeſterday. Come down to breakfaſt, you blockhead.' With that he immediately follows her like a patient man, whilſt ſhe continued ſcolding in this manner, 'I need not ask you whether or not you met with your pot companion, for I think you gave me full enough proof that you did by the drunken condition yon came home in; I think you told me he was ſomething of a courtier, but I rather take him to be a charman or a drunken porter, pray here's