'Thus all the day long he beg'd for relief,
And late in the night he play'd the false theefe,
And seven years together this custom kept he,
And no man thought him such a person to be.
'There were few graziers who went on the way,
But unto the Cripple for passage did pay.
And every brave merchant that he did descry,
He emptied their purses ere they passed by.
'The gallant Lord Courtenay, both valiant and bold,
Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold,
At Exeter there (for) a purchase to pay,
But that the false Cripple his journey did stay.
'For why, the false Cripple heard tidings of late,
As he lay for almes at this noble-man's gate,
What day and what houre his journey should be;
"This is," quoth the Cripple, "a booty for me."
'Then to his companions this matter he moved,
Which he in like actions before-time had proved;
They make themselves ready, and deeply they sweare,
This money's their own, before they come there.
'Upon his two stilts the Cripple doth mount,
To have the best share he makes his account;
All clothed in canvas downe to the ground,
He takes up his standing, his mates with him round.
'Then comes the Lord Courtenay, with half a score men,
That little suspected these thieves in their den,
And they (thus) perceiving them come to their hand,
In a darke (winter's) evening, they bid him to stand.
'"Deliver thy purse," quoth the Cripple, "with speed—
For we be good fellows and thereof have need."
"Not so," quoth Lord Countenay, "but this I'll tell ye,
Win it and wear it, else get none of me."
'With that the Lord Courtenay stood on his defence,
And so did his servants; but ere they went hence,
Two of the true men were slain in the fight,
And four of the thieves were put to the flight.
'And while for their safeguard they run thus away,
The jolly bold Cripple did hold the rest play,
And with his pikestaff he wounded them so,
As they were unable to run or to go.