Alyce opened a shot-windowe,
And lokëd all aboute,
She was ware of the justice and the shirife bothe,
Wyth a full great route.
23.
‘Alas! treason,’ cryed Alyce,
‘Ever wo may thou be!
Goe into my chamber, my husband,’ she sayd,
‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
24.