s I drink thy very
great health (here he took a long, deep draught). And now, sweet lad,
'tis thy turn next (here he passed the bottle from his left hand back
again to his right). I take it, sweet chuck, and here's wishing thee as
much good as thou wishest me." Saying this, he took another draught, and
truly he drank enough for two.

All this time merry Robin lay upon the bank and listened, while his
stomach so quaked with laughter that he was forced to press his palm
across his mouth to keep it from bursting forth; for, truly, he would
not have spoiled such a goodly jest for the half of Nottinghamshire.

Having gotten his breath from his last draught, the Friar began talking
again in this wise: "Now, sweet lad, canst thou not sing me a song? La,
I know not, I am but in an ill voice this day; prythee ask me not; dost
thou not hear how I croak like a frog? Nay, nay, thy voice is as sweet
as any bullfinch; come, sing, I prythee, I would rather hear thee sing
than eat a fair feast. Alas, I would fain not sing before one that
can pipe so well and hath heard so many goodly songs and ballads,
ne'ertheless, an thou wilt have it so, I will do my best. But now
methinks that thou and I might sing some fair song together; dost thou
not know a certain dainty little catch called 'The Loving Youth and the
Scornful Maid'? Why, truly, methinks I have heard it ere now. Then dost
thou not think that thou couldst take the lass's part if I take the
lad's? I know not but I will try; begin thou with the lad and I will
follow with the lass."

Then, singing first with a voice deep and gruff, and anon in one high
and squeaking, he blithely trolled the merry catch of

THE LOVING YOUTH AND THE SCORNFUL MAID

"_Ah, it's wilt thou come with me, my love?
And it's wilt thou, love, be mine?
For I will give unto thee, my love,
Gay knots and ribbons so fine.
I'll woo thee, love, on my bended knee,
And I'll pipe sweet songs to none but thee.
Then it's hark! hark! hark!
To the winged lark
And it's hark to the cooing dove!
And the bright daffodil
Groweth down by the rill,
So come thou and be my love.

SHE
"Now get thee away, young man so fine;
Now get thee away, I say;
For my true love shall never be thine,
And so thou hadst better not stay.
Thou art not a fine enough lad for me,
So I'll wait till a better young man I see.
For it's hark! har