eep you out of that traitor's hands!
Full little ye wot what a man he is.

He is brass within, and steel without,
With beams on his topcastle strong;
And eighteen pieces of ordinance
He carries on each side along:
And he hath a pinnace dearly dight,[117]
St. Andrew's cross that is his guide;
His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
And fifteen cannons on each side.

Were ye twenty ships, and he but one,
I swear by kirk, and bower, and hall,
He would overcome them every one,
If once his beams they do down fall.
This is cold comfort, says my lord,
To welcome a stranger thus to the sea:
Yet I'll bring him and his ship to shore,
Or to Scotland he shall carry me.

Then a noble gunner you must have,
And he must aim well with his ee,
And sink his pinnace into the sea,
Or else he ne'er o'ercome will be:
And if you chance his ship to board,
This counsel I must give withal,
Let no man to his topcastle go
To strive to let his beams down fall.

And seven pieces of ordinance,
I pray your honour lend to me,
On each side of my ship along,
And I will lead you on the sea.
A glass I'll set, that may be seen,
Whether you sail by day or night;
And to-morrow, I swear, by nine of the clock
You shall meet with Sir Andrew Barton, knight.

PART THE SECOND.

The merchant set my lord a glass
So well apparent in his sight,
And on the morrow, by nine of the clock,
He showed him Sir Andrew Barton, knight.
His hatchboard it was gilt with gold,
So dearly dight it dazzled the ee:
Now by my faith, lord Howard says,
This is a gallant sight to see.

Take in your ancients,[118] standards eke,
So close that no man may them see;
And put me forth a white willow wand,
As merchants use to sail the sea.
But they stirred neither top, nor mast;[119]
Stoutly they passed Sir Andrew by.
What English churls are yonder, he said,
That can so little courtesy?

Now by the rood, three years and more,
I have been admiral over the sea;
And never an English nor Portingall[120]
Without my leave can pass this way.
Then called he forth his stout pinnace;
Fetch back yon pedlars now to me:
I swear by the mass, yon English churls
Shall all hang at my main-mast tree.

Wit