And whan the came before the kynge,

They knelt downe on theyr kne:

And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well,
Of Carleile in the north cuntrè.

How fareth my justice, sayd the kyng,

145

And my sherife also?

Syr, they be slayne without leasynge,

And many an officer mo.

Who hath them slayne, sayd the kyng;
Anone thou tell to me?

150

“Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

Himselfe he red it thro,

And founde how these outlawes had slain
Thre hundred men and mo:

165

Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe,
And the mayre of Carleile towne:
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alyve were 'scant' left one:

The baylyes, and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law,

V. 168, left but one. MS., not one. P. C.

170

And broke his parks, and slayne his dere;

Of all they chose the best;

So perelous out-lawes, as they were,
Walked not by easte nor west.

When the kynge this letter had red,
In hys harte he syghed sore:

Take up the tables anone he bad,

For I may eat no more.

175

180

The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,
And the quenes archers also;

185

So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen;

With them they thought to go.

There twyse, or thryse they shote about
For to assay theyr hande;

190

There was no shote these yemen shot,

Thou art the best archer, then said the king,

For sothe that ever I se..

And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam,

215

I wyll do more maystery.

I have a sonne is seven yere olde,

He is to me full deare;

I wyll hym tye to a stake;

All shall se, that be here;

220

And lay an apple upon hys head,
And go syxe score hym fro,

And I my selfe with a brode aròw
Shall cleve the apple in two.

Now haste the, then sayd the kyng,
By hym that dyed on a tre,

But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde,
Hanged shalt thou be.

V. 202, 203, 212, to, P. C.

yards.

225

V. 204, twenty score paces. P. C. i. e. 400

V. 208, sic MS., none that can. P.C.

P. C.. i. e. 120 yards.

V. 222, six-score paces.

1

And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene,

265

By God, and by my fay;

Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,

No man shall say the nay.

Wyllyam, I make the a gentleman

Of clothyng, and of fe:

270

And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre,

For they are so semely to se.

And, Wyllyam, bring to me your wife, said the quene,

Me longeth her sore to se:

She shall be my chefe gentlewoman,

To governe my nurserye.

The

yemen

thanketh them curteously.

To some byshop wyl we wend,
Of all the synnes, that we have done,
To be assoyld at his hand.

So forth be gone these good yemen,
As fast as they might 'he2;'

V. 265, and I geve the xvii pence. P. C.
Bishopp wee will wend. MS.

275

280

285

V. 282, And sayd to some

2 he, i. e. hie, hasten. See the Glossary.