Til he fo nigh was, er fhe might espie,
That it had ben to late for to crie:
And fhortly for to say, they were at on.

Now play Alein, for I wol speke of John.

This John lith ftill a furlong way or two,
And to himself he maketh routh and wo.
Alas! (quod he) this is a wicked jape;
Now may I say that I is but an ape.

4195

4200

Yet has my felaw fomwhat for his harme;

He has the millers doughter in his arme:

He auntred him, and hath his nedes fpedde,
And I lie as a draf fak in my bedde;
And whan this jape is tald another day
I fhal be halden a daffe or a cokenay:

4205

. 4205. a cokenay] That this is a term of contempt, borrowed originally from the kitchen, is very probable. A cook, in the bafe Latinity, was called coquinator and coquinarius, from either of which cokenay might eafily be derived. In P. P. fol. 35, b.;

And yet I fay by my foule I have no falt bacon,

Ne no cokeney by Chrifte coloppes to make.

It seems to fignify a cook. And fo, perhaps, in The Turnament of Tottenham, Anc. Poet. t. ii. p. 24;

At that feaft were they ferved in rich array;

Every five and five had a cokeney.

'That is, I fuppofe, a cook or fcullion, to attend them.-In thofe rhymes afcribed to Hugh Bigot which Camden has publithed, Brit. Col. 451, (upon what authority I know not) Were I in my cattle of Bungey

Upon the river of Waveney,

I would ne care for the King of Cockeney.

The author, in calling London Cockeney, might poffibly allude to that imaginary country of idleness and luxury which was anciently known by the name of Cokaigne or Cocagne, a name which Hickes has fhewn to be derived from coquint

I wol arife and auntre it by my fay:
Unhardy is unfely, thus men fay.

And up he rose, and foftely he went
Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hent,
And bare it foft unto his beddes fete.
Sone after this the wif hire routing lete,
And gan awake, and went hire out to piffe,
And came again, and gan the cradel miffe,
And groped here and ther, but the fond non.
Alas! (quod fhe) I had almost misgon;
I had almost gon to the clerkes bedde:
Ey benedicite! than had I foule yfpedde.
And forth fhe goth til fhe the cradel fond.
She gropeth alway forther with hire hond,

And fond the bed, and thoughte nat but good,
Because that the cradel by it stood,

And n'ifte wher fhe was, for it was derk,

But faire and wel the crept in by the clerk,

4210

4215

4220

Gr. A. S. p. 231. He has there published an excellent defcription of the country of Cokaigne in old English verse, but probably tranflated from the French; at leaft the French have had the fame fable among them, for Boileau plainly alludes to it, fat. vi. ;

Paris eft pour un riche un pais de Cocagne.

The festival of La Cocagna at Naples, defcribed by Keysler, v. ii. p. 369, appears to have the fame foundation. It probably commenced under the Norman government. There is a mockheroick poem in the Sicilian dialect entitled La Cuccagna Conquiftata, by Gio. Battista Bafili, Palerm. 1674, in which the defcription of l'alma città di Cuccagna begins thus;

Sedi Cuccagna futta una montagna

Di furmaggiu grattatu, et havi in cima
Di maccuruni una caudara magna.

And lith ful ftill, and wold han caught a flepe. 4225
Within a while this John the clerk up lepe,
And on this goode wif he laieth on fore;
So mery a fit ne had the nat ful yore:
He priketh hard and depe as he were mad.
This joly lif han these two clerkes lad
Til that the thridde cok began to fing.
Alein wex werie in the morwening,
For he had fwonken all the longe night,

And fayd, Farewel, Malkin, my fwete wight:

4230

The day is come, I may no longer bide,

But evermo wher so I go or ride

I is thin awen clerk, fo have I hele.

4235

Now, dere lemman, quod fhe, go, farewele;

But or thou go o thing I wol thee tell.

Whan that thou wendeft homeward by the mell,

Right at the entree of the dore behind

'Thou shalt a cake of half a bufhel find

That was ymaked of thin owen mele,

4241

Which that I halpe my fader for to stele:

And, goode lemman, God thee fave and kepe. 4245 And with that word fhe gan almost to wepe.

Alein uprist, and thought er that it daw

I wol go crepen in by my felaw;

And fond the cradel at his hand anon.

By God, thought he, all wrang I have misgon: 4250 My hed is tottie of my swink to night,

That maketh me that I go uat aright.

Volume II.

S

I wot wel by the cradel I have misgo;
Here lith the miller and his wif alfo.
And forth he goth a twenty divel way
Unto the bed, ther as the miller lay.
He wend have cropen by his felaw John,
And by the miller in he crept anon,

4255

And caught him by the nckke, and gan him shake,
And fayd, Thou John, thou swineshed, awake 4260
For Criftes faule, and here a noble game;
For by that lord that called is Seint Jame,
As I have thries as in this fhort night
Swived the millers doughter bolt upright
While thou haft as a coward ben agast.

Ye, falfe harlot, quod the miller, hast?
A, falfe traitour, false clerk, (quod he)
Thou shalt be ded by Goddes dignitee,
Who dorfte be fo bold to disparage
My doughter, that is come of fwiche linage.
And by the throte-bolle he caught Alein,
And he him hent defpitoufly again,

And on the nofe he fmote him with his fift;
Doun ran the blody ftreme upon his breft:

4265

4270

And in the flore with nofe and mouth to-broke 4275
They walwe, as don two pigges in a poke.

And up they gon, and doun again anon,
Til that the miller sporned at a fton,
And doun he fell backward upon his wif,
'That wifte nothing of this nice ftrif:

4280

For fhe was fall aflepe a litel wight

With John the clerk, that waked had all night,
And with the fall out of hire flepe she braide.
Helpe, holy crois of Bromeholme! (she fayde)
In manus tuas, Lord, to thee I call.

Awake, Simond, the fend is on me fall;
Myn herte is broken; helpe; I n'am but ded;
Ther lith on up my wombe and up myn hed:
Helpe, Simkin, for the falfe clerkes fight.
This John ftert up as fast as ever he might,
And grafpeth by the walles to and fro

4285

4290

To find a ftaf, and she stert up also,

And knew the eftres bet than did this John,
And by the wall she toke a staf anon,
And faw a litel fhemering of a light,
For at an hole in fhone the mone bright,
And by that light she saw hem bothe two,
But fikerly fhe n'ifte who was who,
But as she faw a white thing in hire eye;

4295

And whan fhe gan this white thing efpie

She wend the clerk had wered a volupere,

43C0

And with the staf fhe drow ay nere and nere,

And wend han hit this Alein atte full,

And smote the miller on the pilled skull,

That doun he goth, and cried, Harrow! I die. 4305
Thife clerkes bete him wel, and let him lie,
And greithen hem, and take hir hors anon,

And eke hir mele, and on hir way they gon;