He smote downe many a man.
37.
There myght no man stand hys stroke,
So fersly on them he ran:
Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him
And so toke that good yeman.
38.
There they hym bounde both hand and fote,
And in a deepe dongeon him cast:
‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayd the hye justice,