O'er head and ears he plunged in,
The bottom faire he sounded;
Then rising up he cried amain,
"Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded"
"Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu!
You see what comes of fooling:
That is the fittest place for you;
Your courage wanted cooling."
Ere many days, in her father's park,
Just at the close of eve-a,
Again she met with her angry sparke;
Which made this lady grieve-a.
"False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,
And no one now can hear thee:
And thou shalt sorely rue the hour,
That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me."
"I pray, sir knight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a:
I vow and swear I thought no harm,
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a."
"A gentle jest, in soothe," he cry 'd,
"To tumble me in and leave me!
What if I had in the river dy'd?
That fetch will not deceive me.
"Once more I'll pardon thee this day,
Tho' injur'd out of measure;
But then prepare without delay
To yield thee to my pleasure."
"Well then, if I must grant your suit,
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir:
Let me pull off both spur and boot,
Or else you cannot stir, sir."
He set him down upon the grass,
And begg'd her kind assistance;
Now, smiling thought this lovely lass,
I'll make you keep your distance.
Then pulling off his boots half-way;
"Sir knight, now I'm your betters:
You shall not make of me your prey;
Sit there like a knave in fetters."
The knight when she had served soe,
He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled:
For he could neither stand nor go;
But like a cripple tumbled.