m to his fere,
And seyd to hem in this manner;
"The king has made a sori oth,
That he schal with a white lof
Fede al Inglonde, and with a spand,
Y wis it were a sori saut;
And better is that we die to,
Than al Inglond be so wo.
Ye schul for me belles ring,
And after wordes rede and sing;
So helpe you God, heven king,
Granteth me alle now mill asking,
And Ichim wil with puseoun slo,
Ne schal he never Inglond do wo."

His brethren him graunt alle his bone.
He let him shrive swithe sone,
To make his soule fair and cleue,
To for our leuedi heven queen,
That sche schuld for him be,
To for her son in trinite.

Dansimond zede and gadred frut,
For sothe were plommes white,
The steles[B] he puld out everichon,
Puisoun he dede therin anon,
And sett the steles al ogen,
That the gile schuld nought be sen.
He dede hem in a coupe of gold,
And went to the kinges bord;
On knes he him sett,
The king full fair he grett;
"Sir," he said, "by Seynt Austin,
This is front of our garden,
And gif that your wil be,
Assayet herof after me."
Dansimoud ete frut, on and on,
And al tho other ete King Jon;
The monke aros, and went his way,
God gif his soule wel gode day;
He gaf King Jon ther his puisoun,
Himself had that ilk doun,
He dede, it is nouther for mirthe ne ond,
Bot for to save al Iuglond.

The King Jon sate at mete,
His wombe to wex grete;
He swore his oth, _per la croyde_,
His wombe wald brest a thre;
He wald have risen fram the bord,
Ac he spake never more word;
Thus ended his time,
Y wis he had an evel fine.

[Footnote A: _Hope, for think._]

[Footnote B: _Steles_--Stalks.]

Shakespeare, from such old chronicles, has drawn his authority for the
last fine scene in _King John_. But he probably had it from Caxton, who
uses nearly the words of the prose chronicle. Hemingford tells the same
tale with the metrical historian. It is certain, that John increased the
flux, of which he died, by the intemperate use of peaches and of ale,
which may have given rise to the story of the poison.--See MATTHEW
PARIS.

To return to the ballad: there is a very similar song, in which,
apparently to excite greater interest in the nursery, the handsome young
hunter is exchanged for a little child, poisoned by a false step-mother.

LORD RANDAL.

"O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
"O where hae ye been, my handso