Woodstock; or, the Cavalier by Walter Scott (best ereader manga TXT) 📕

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.
vThey 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 farmes,
Quit-rents, knight services, and armes;
But that they came not in by swarmes
          To pay there.

Night doth invite to bed again,
The grand Commissioners were lain,
But then the thing did heave amain,
          It busled,

And with great clamor fil’d their eares,
The noyse was doubled, and their feares;
Nothing was standing but their haires,
          They nuzled.

Oft were the blankets pul’d, the sheete
Was closely twin’d betwixt their feete,
It seems the spirit was discreete
          And civill.

Which makes the poore Commissioners
Feare they shall get but small arreares,
And that there’s yet for cavaliers
          One divell.

They cast about what best to doe;
Next day they would to wisemen goe,
To neighb’ring towns some cours to know;
          For schollars

Come not to Woodstock, as before,
And Allen’s dead as a nayle-doore,
And so’s old John (eclep’d the poore)
          His follower;

Rake Oxford o’re, there’s not a man
That rayse or lay a spirit can,
Or use the circle, or the wand,
          Or conjure;

Or can say (Boh!) unto a divell,
Or to a goose that is uncivill,
Nor where Keimbolton purg’d out evill,
          ’Tis sin sure.

There were two villages hard by,
With teachers of presbytery,
Who knew the house was hidiously
          Be-pestred;

But ’lasse! their new divinity
Is not so deep, or not so high;
Their witts doe (as their meanes did) lie
          Sequestred;

But Master Joffman was the wight
Which was to exorcise the spright;
Hee’ll preach and pray you day and night
          At pleasure.

And by that painfull gainfull trade,
He hath himselfe full wealthy made;
Great store of guilt he hath, ’tis said,
          And treasure.

But no intreaty of his friends
Could get him to the house of fiends,
He came not over for such ends
          From Dutch-land,

But worse divinity hee brought,
And hath us reformation taught,
And, with our money, he hath bought
          Him much land.

Had the old parsons preached still,
The div’l should nev’r have had his wil;
But those that had or art or skill
          Are outed;

And those to whom the pow’r was giv’n
Of driving spirits, are out-driv’n;
Their colledges dispos’d, and livings,
          To grout-heads.

There was a justice who did boast,
Hee had as great a gift almost,
Who did desire him to accost
          This evill.

But hee would not employ his gifts.
But found out many sleights and shifts;
Hee had no prayers, nor no snifts,
          For th’ divell.

Some other way they cast about,
These brought him in, they throw not out;
A woman, great with child, will do’t;
          They got one.

And she i’ th’ room that night must lie;
But when the thing about did flie,
And broke the windows furiously
          And hot one

Of the contractors o’re the head,
Who lay securely in his bed,
The woman, shee-affrighted, fled
—— ——

And now they lay the cause on her.
That e’re that night the thing did stir,
Because her selfe and grandfather
          Were Papists;

They must be barnes-regenerate,
(A Hans en Kelder of the state,
Which was in reformation gatt,)
          They said, which

Doth make the divell stand in awe,
Pull in his hornes, his hoof, his claw;
But having none, they did in draw
—— —— ——

But in the night there was such worke,
The spirit swaggered like a Turke;
The bitch had spi’d where it did lurke,
          And howled

In such a wofull manner that
Their very hearts went pit a pat;

The stately rooms, where kings once lay
But the contractors show’d the way.
But mark what now I tell you, pray,
          ’Tis worth it.

That book I told you of before,
Wherein were tenants written store,
A register for many more
          Not forth yet,

That very book, as it did lie,
Took of a flame, no mortall eye
Seeing one jot of fire thereby,
          Or taper;

For all the candles about flew,
And those that burned, burned blew,
Never kept soldiers such a doe
          Or vaper.

The book thus burnt and none knew how
The poore contractors made a vow
To work no more; this spoil’d their plow
          In that place.

Some other part o’ th’ house they’ll find,
To which the divell hath no mind,
But hee, it seems, is not inclin’d
          With that grace;

But other pranks it plaid elsewhere.
An oake there was stood many a yeere,
Of goodly growth as any where,
          Was hewn down,

Which into fewell-wood was cut,
And some into a wood-pile put,
But it was hurled all about
          And thrown down.

In sundry formes it doth appeare;
Now like a grasping claw to teare;
Now like a dog; anon a beare
          It tumbles;

And all the windows battered are,
No man the quarter enter dare;
All men (except the glasier)
          Doe grumble.

Once in the likenesse of woman,
Of stature much above the common,
’Twas seene, but spak a word to no man,
          And vanish’d.

’Tis thought the ghost of some good wife
Whose husband was depriv’d of life,
Her children cheated, land in strife
          She banist.

No man can tell the cause of these
So wondrous dreadful outrages;
Yet if upon your sinne you please
          To discant,

You’le find our actions out-doe hell’s;
O wring your hands and cease the bells,
Repentance must, or nothing else
          Appease can’t.