KING AND THE COBLER 15 out of bed. put on his clothes, and his conſidering cap: ſo poſting away to his tall, he fell to work upon his old ſhoes and boots a fierce as a fury, and as blythe as a bird in the returning ſpring; pleaſing his fancy with a ſong of his own making HIS SONG THOUGH now I Gt within my ſtall, old ſhoes and ſlippers mending I to the court that have a call, There's hope depending, I do not value cruſty Joat. Though once in tears I woo'd her, I have the favour, 'is 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 fete. of having courtly pelasure. I wiſh old Joan ſhe would die, Though once with tears I wood her: I go to court and there live by My dear friend Harry Tudor.
Now whilſt the cobler was making himſelf merry with ſinging this new made ſong, Joan ſuddenly chop'd upon him, and being him mention the name of Tudor, flutes him in this manner, ' Out ' you drunken ſcoundril are ye going a Tudering it ' again, I thought ye had got enough yeſterday. ' Come down to breakfaſt, you blackhead. With that he in me intely follow her like a patient can, whiſt the continued feolding in this matter, ' need not of 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 con- dition you came home in; I think you told me he was ſomething on courtier but I rather take him to be a carman or a drunken porter, Pray whore's
