Woodstock; or, the Cavalier. Вальтер Скотт

tock; or, the Cavalier

      APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION

APPENDIX NO. I

      THE WOODSTOCK SCUFFLE; or, Most dreadfull apparitions that were lately seene in the Mannor-house of Woodstock, neere Oxford, to the great terror and the wonderful amazement of all there that did behold them.

      It were a wonder if one unites,

      And not of wonders and strange sights;

      For ev'ry where such things affrights

      Poore people,

      That men are ev'n at their wits' end;

      God judgments ev'ry where doth send,

      And yet we don't our lives amend,

      But tipple,

      And sweare, and lie, and cheat, and – ,

      Because the world shall drown no more,

      As if no judgments were in store

      But water;

      But by the stories which I tell,

      You'll heare of terrors come from hell,

      And fires, and shapes most terrible

      For matter.

      It is not long since that a child

      Spake from the ground in a large field,

      And made the people almost wild

      That heard it,

      Of which there is a printed book,

      Wherein each man the truth may look,

      If children speak, the matter's took

      For verdict.

      But this is stranger than that voice,

      The wonder's greater, and the noyse;

      And things appeare to men, not boyes,

      At Woodstock;

      Where Rosamond had once a bower,

      To keep her from Queen Elinour,

      And had escap'd her poys'nous power

      By good-luck,

      But fate had otherwise decreed,

      And Woodstock Manner saw a deed,

      Which is in Hollinshed or Speed

      Chro-nicled;

      But neither Hollinshed nor Stow,

      Nor no historians such things show,

      Though in them wonders we well know

      Are pickled;

      For nothing else is history

      But pickle of antiquity,

      Where things are kept in memory

      From stinking;

      Which otherwise would have lain dead,

      As in oblivion buried,

      Which now you may call into head

      With thinking.

      The dreadfull story, which is true,

      And now committed unto view,

      By better pen, had it its due,

      Should see light.

      But I, contented, do indite,

      Not things of wit, but things of right;

      You can't expect that things that fright

      Should delight.

      O hearken, therefore, hark and shake!

      My very pen and hand doth quake!

      While I the true relation make

      O' th' wonder,

      Which hath long time, and still appeares

      Unto the State's Commissioners,

      And puts them in their beds to feares

      From under.

      They come, good men, imploi'd by th' State

      To sell the lands of Charles the late.

      And there they lay, and long did waite

      For chapmen.

      You may have easy pen'worths, woods,

      Lands, ven'son, householdstuf, and goods,

      They little thought of dogs that wou'd

      There snap-men.

      But when they'd sup'd, and fully fed,

      They set up remnants and to bed.

      Where scarce they had laid down a head

      To slumber,

      But that their beds were heav'd on high;

      They thought some dog under did lie,

      And meant i' th' chamber (fie, fie, fie)

      To scumber.

      Some thought the cunning cur did mean

      To eat their mutton (which was lean)

      Reserv'd for breakfast, for the men

      Were thrifty.

      And up one rises in his shirt,

      Intending the slie cur to hurt,

      And forty thrusts made at him for't,

      Or fifty.

      But empty came his sword again.

      He found he thrust but all in vain;

      An the mutton safe, hee went amain

      To's fellow.

      And now (assured all was well)

      The bed again began to swell,

      The men were frighted, and did smell

      O' th' yellow.

      From heaving, now the cloaths it pluckt

      The men, for feare, together stuck,

      And in their sweat each other duck't.

      They wished

      A thousand times that it were day;

      'Tis sure the divell! Let us pray.

      They pray'd amain; and, as they say,

      —

      Approach of day did cleere the doubt,

      For all devotions were run out,

      They now waxt strong and something stout,

      One peaked

      Under the bed, but nought was there;

      He view'd the chamber ev'ry where,

      Nothing apear'd but what, for feare.

      They leaked.

      Their stomachs then return'd apace,

      They found the mutton in the place,

      And fell unto it with a grace.

      They laughed

      Each at the other's pannick feare,

      And each his bed-fellow did jeere,

      And having sent for ale and beere,

      They quaffed.

      And then abroad the summons went,

      Who'll buy king's-land o' th' Parliament?

      A paper-book contein'd the rent,

      Which lay there;

      That did contein the severall