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SIR MARTYN.
13
XXIV.
No; ſooner ſhall yond hill forſake his place,
He laughing ſaid, and would have caught her hand;
Her hand ſhe ſhifted to her blubberd face
With prudiſh modeſtie, and ſobd, Alas!
Grant me your bond, or elſe on yonder tree
These ſilkin garters, pledge of thy embrace,
Ah, welladay! ſhall hang my babe and me,
And everie night our ghoſtes ſhall bring all hell to thee.
XXV.
As when, aloft on well-ſtored cherrie-tree,
The thieviſh elfe beholds with pale affright
The gardner near, and weets not where to flee:
And will my bond forefend thilk miſerie?
That ſhalt thou have; and for thy peace beside,
What mote I more? Houſekeeper ſhalt thou be—
An awfull oath forthwith his promiſe tied,
And Kathrin was as blythe as ever blytheſome bride.
