And whan the came before the kynge,

They knelt downe on theyr kne:

And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well,

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

150

"Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

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.

160

165

170

And forty fosters of the fe,

These outlawes had yslaw:

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.

The kyng called hys best archars
To the buttes wyth hym to go:

I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd,
In the north have wrought this wo.

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,

That any prycke1 myght stand.

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè;
By him that for me dyed,

I hold hym never no good archar,
That shoteth at buttes so wyde.

'At what a butte now wold ye shote,'

I pray thee tell to me?

At suche a but, syr, he sayd,

As men use in my countrè.

V. 185, blythe, MS.

195

200

1 i. e. mark.

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;

And lay an apple upon hys head,
And go syxe score hym fro,
And I my selfe with a brode arow
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.

220

225

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

V. 208, sic MS., none that can. P. C. V. 222, six-score paces. P. C., i. e. 120 yards.

Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge,
That thou shold shote at me.

260

I geve thee eightene pence a day,
And my bowe shalt thou bere,
And over all the north countrè

I make the chyfe rydère.

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.

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

275

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.

280

285

V. 282, And sayd to some

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