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The usher sayde, Yemen, what would ye have, I pray you tell
to me;
You myht thus make offycers shent, good Syr of whence be
ye?
Syr we be out-lawes of the forest, cartayne withouten
lease,
And hether we be come to our Kyng, to gett us a charter of
peace.
And when they came before the Kyng, as it was the lawes of
the lande,
They knelled downe without lettyng, and eche held up his
hand.
The sayd, Lorde, we beseche the here, that ye will grant us
grace,
For we have slayne your fatt follow-dere in many a sondry
place.
What be your names, then said our Kyng, anone that you tell
me?
The said, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and Wyllyam of
Cloudesle.
Be ye those theves? then said our kyng, that men have told
of to me?
Here to God I make a vowe, ye shall be hanged all thre.
But good lorde, we beseche you now, that ye graunt to us
grace,
In so much as frely to you we com in, as frely fro you to
pass;
With such weapons as we have here, tyll we be out of your
place,
And yf we lyve thys hundreth year, we will ask you no
grace.
Ye speake proudly, sayd the Kynge, ye shall be hanged all
three;
That were great pity, then sayd the Queene, yf any grace
myght be:
My lorde whan I came first ynto thys lande to be your wedded
wyfe,
The fyrst boone that I wold aske, ye wold grant it me be
lyfe.
And I never asked none tyll now, then good lorde graunt it
me.
Now ask yt Madam, sayd the Kyng, and granted yt shall be.
Then my good Lorde I you beseche, these yemen graunt ye
me;
Madame ye myght have asked a boone that should have been
worth them all thre,
Ye myght have asked towres and townes, parkes and forestes
plente!
But none so pleasant to my pay, she sayd, nor none so lefe
to me.
Madame, sith it is your desyre, your askyng graunted shall
be;
But I had lever have geven you good market townes thre.
The Queene was a glad woman, and said, Lord gramarcye!
I dare undertake for them, that true men they shall be.
But, good my Lorde, speke som mery word, that comfort they
may se.
I graunt you grace, then sayd our Kyng, washe felos, and to
meate go ye.
They had not setten but a whyle certayne, withouten
lesynge,
There came messengers out of the North wyth letters to ur
Kynge.
And when they came before the Kynge, they knelt down on
theyr knee,
Sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well of Carleyle in the
North cuntri.
How fareth my justyce, sayd the Kynge, and my sheryfe
also?
Syr, they be slayne, without lesynge, and many an officer
mo.
Who hath them slayne, sayd the Kynge, anone thou tell to
me?
"Adam Bell, Clyme of he Clough, and Wyllyam of
Cloudesle."
Alas! for rewth, then sayd our Kynge, my harte is wondrous
sore!
I had lever than a thousand pounde I had knowne of this
before.
For I have granted to them grace, and that for thynketh
me;
But had I known all this before, the had been hanged all
thre.
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