_Mac._ Go away: I am worthy of my meat, For in a strait can I get More than they that swinck[132] and sweat All the long day, Thus it fell to my lot, Gill, I had such grace.

_Wife._ It were a foul blot to be hanged for the case.

_Mac._ I have scaped, Jelott, oft as hard as gla.s.s.

_Wife._ "But so long goes the pot to the water," men says, "At last comes it home broken."

_Mac._ Well know I the token, But let it never be spoken; But come and help fast.

I would he were flayn;[133] I list we'll eat: This twelvemonth was I not so fain of one sheep-meat.

_Wife._ Come they if he be slain, and hear the sheep bleat?

_Mac._ Then might I be ta'en: that were a cold sweat.

Go bar The gate door.

_Wife._ Yes, Mac, For and they come at thy back.

_Mac._ Then might I pay for all the pack: The devil of them war![134]

_Wife._ A good bowrde[135] have I spied, since thou can none: Here shall we him hide, till they be gone; In my cradle abide. Let me alone, And I shall lie beside in childbed and groan.

_Mac._ Thou red?[136]

And I shall say thou wast light Of a knave child this night.

_Wife._ Now well is my day bright, That ever I was bred.

This is a good guise and a far cast; Yet a woman's advice helps at the last.

I care never who spies: again go thou fast.

_Mac._ But I come or they rise; else blows a cold blast-- I will go sleep. [_Mac goes back to the field._ Yet sleep all this menye,[137]

And I shall go stalk privily, As it had never been I That carried their sheep.

_1st Shepherd._ _Resurrex a mortrius_: have hold my hand.

_Judas carnas dominus_, I may not well stand: My foot sleeps, by Jesus, and I water fastand!

I thought that we laid us full near England.

_2nd Shepherd._ Ah ye!

Lord, how I have slept weel!

As fresh as an eel, As light I me feel As leaf on a tree.

_3rd Shepherd._ Benste![138] be herein! So my head quakes My heart is out of skin, what so it makes.

Who makes all this din? So my brow aches, To the door will I win. Hark fellows, wakes!

We were four: See ye anything of Mac now?

_1st Shepherd._ We were up ere thou.

_2nd Shepherd._ Man, I give G.o.d a vow, Yet heed he nowhere.

_3rd Shepherd._ Methought he was wrapped in a wolf's-skin.

_1st Shepherd._ So are many happed, now namely within.

_2nd Shepherd._ When we had long napped; methought with a gin A fat sheep he trapped, but he made no din.

_3rd Shepherd._ Be still: Thy dream makes thee wood:[139]

It is but phantom, by the rood.

_1st Shepherd._ Now G.o.d turn all to good, If it be his will.

_2nd Shepherd._ Rise, Mac, for shame! thou ly'st right long.

_Mac._ Now Christ, his holy name be us amang, What is this? for Saint James!--I may not well gang.

I trust I be the same. Ah! my neck has lain wrang Enough Mickle thank, since yester-even Now, by Saint Stephen!

I was flayed with a sweven,--[140]

My heart out of slough.[141]

I thought Gill began to croak, and travail full sad, Well nigh at the first c.o.c.k,--of a young lad, For to mend our flock: then be I never glad.

To have two on my rock,--more than ever I had.

Ah, my head!

A house full of young tharmes,[142]

The devil knock out their harnes![143]

Woe is he has many bairns, And thereto little bread.

I must go home, by your leave, to Gill as I thought.

I pray you look my sleeve, that I steal nought: I am loth you to grieve, or from you take aught.

_3rd Shepherd._ Go forth, ill might thou chefe,[144] now would I we sought, This morn, That we had all our store.

_1st Shepherd._ But I will go before, Let us meet.

_2nd Shepherd._ Whor?[145]

_3rd Shepherd._ At the crooked thorn.

_Mac (at his own door again)._ Undo this door! who is here? How long shall I stand?

_Wife._ Who makes such a stir?--Now walk in the wenyand.[146]

_Mac._ Ah, Gill, what cheer?--It is I, Mac, your husband.

_His Wife._ Then may we be here,--the devil in a band, Sir Gile.

Lo, he commys[147] with a lot, As he were holden in the throat.

I may not sit, work or not A hand long while.

_Mac._ Will ye hear what fare she makes--to get her a glose,[148]

And do naught but lakes[149]--and close her toes.

_Wife._ Why, who wanders, who wakes,--who comes, who goes?

Who brews, who bakes? Who makes for me this hose?

And then It is ruth to behold, Now in hot, now in cold, Full woful is the household That wants a woman.

But what end hast thou made with the herds, Mac?