When she came to the kings faire courte,
She knocked at the ring;
So readye was the king himself
To let this faire maide in.
Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,
Now Christ you save and see,
You have a knighte within your courte,
This daye hath robbed mee.
What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?
Of purple or of pall?
Or hath he took thy gaye gold ring
From off thy finger small?
He hath not robbed mee, my liege,
Of purple nor of pall:
But he hath gotten my maiden head,
Which grieves mee worst of all.
Now if he be a batchelor,
His bodye He give to thee;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged he shall bee.
He called downe his merrye men all,
By one, by two, by three;
Sir William used to bee the first,
But nowe the last came hee.
He brought her downe full fortye pounde,
Tyed up withinne a glove:
Faire maide, He give the same to thee;
Go, seeke thee another love.
O Ile have none of your gold, she sayde,
Nor Ile have none of your fee;
But your faire bodye I must have,
The king hath granted mee.
Sir William ranne and fetched her then
Five hundred pound in golde,
Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,
Thy fault will never be tolde.
Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,
These words then answered shee,
But your own bodye I must have,
The king hath granted mee.