A cinder shot from it, of size to amaze, With a bounce, such as Betty ne’er heard in her days, Thrice, serpent-like, hissed as its heat fled away, And, lo! something dark in a vast coffin lay!
“Come, Betty,” quoth croaking that nondescript thing, “Come, bless the fond arms of your true Cinder-King! Three more Kings, my brothers, are waiting to greet ye, Who--don’t take it ill--must at four o’clock eat ye.
“My darling! it must be, do make up your mind; We element brothers, united, and kind, Have a feast and a wedding, each night of our lives, So constantly sup on each other’s new wives.”
In vain squalled the cook-maid, and prayed not to wed; Cinder crunched in her mouth, cinder rained on her head. She sank in the coffin with cinders strewn o’er, And coffin nor Betty saw man any more.
THE FROLICKSOME DUKE; OR, THE TINKER’S GOOD FORTUNE
Now, as fame does report, a young Duke keeps a Court, One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport: But amongst all the rest, here is one, I protest, Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest: A poor Tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground, As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.
The Duke said to his men, “William, Richard, and Ben, Take him home to my palace; we’ll sport with him then.” O’er a horse he was laid, and with care soon conveyed To the palace, altho’ he was poorly arrai’d: Then they stript off his cloaths, both his shirt, shoes, and hose, And they put him to bed for to take his repose.
Having pulled off his shirt, which was all over durt, They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt: On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown, They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown. In the morning, when day, then admiring he lay, For to see the rich chamber, both gaudy and gay.
Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state, Till at last Knights and Squires they on him did wait; And the chamberling bare, then did likewise declare, He desired to know what apparel he’d ware: The poor Tinker amazed, on the gentleman gazed, And admired how he to this honour was raised.
Tho’ he seemed something mute, yet he chose a rich suit, Which he straitways put on without longer dispute; With a star on his side, which the Tinker off’t eyed, And it seemed for to swell him no little with pride; For he said to himself, “Where is Joan my sweet wife? Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.”