Durst noe man nighe her wyth his hande,
But put a rape downe wyth a wande,
And heltered her ful meete;
They hauled her furth agen her wyll,
Qunyl they cam until a hille,
A little fra the streete. [131d]
And ther scho made thayme sike a fray,
As, had they lived until Domesday,
They colde yt nere forgette:
Scho brayded upon every syde,
And ranne on thayme gapyng ful wyde,
For nathing wolde scho lette.
Scho gaf sike hard braydes at the bande
That Peter of Dale had in his hande,
Hee myght not holde hys feete;
Scho chasèd thayme sea to and fro,
The wight men never wer sea woe,
Ther mesure was not mete.
Scho bound her boldly to abide,
To Peter of Dale scho cam aside,
Wyth mony a hideous yelle;
Scho gaped sea wide and cryed sea hee,
The freer sayd, ‘I conjure thee,
Thou art a fiend of helle!
‘Thou art comed hider for sum trayne,
I conjure thee to go agayne,
Wher thou was wont to dwell.’
He sainèd hym wyth crosse and creede,
Tooke furth a booke, began to reade,
In Ste Johan hys gospell.
The sewe scho wolde not Latyne heare,
But rudely rushèd at the freer,
That blynkèd all his blee; [132a]
And when scho wolde have takken holde,
The freer leapt as I. H. S. wolde, [132b]
And bealed hym wyth a tree.
Scho was brim as anie beare,
For all their meete to laboure there,
To thayme yt was noe boote;
On tree and bushe that by her stode,
Scho vengèd her as scho wer woode,
And rave thayme up by roote.
Hee sayd, ‘Alas that I wer freer,
I shal bee hugged asunder here,
Hard is my destinie!
Wiste my brederen, in this houre,
That I was set in sike a stoure,
They wolde pray for mee!’
This wicked beaste thatte wrought the woe,
Tooke that rape from the other two,
And than they fledd all three;
They fledd away by Watling streete,
They had no succour but their feete,
Yt was the maire pittye.
The fielde it was both loste and wonne,
The sewe wente hame, and thatte ful soone,
To Morton-on-the-Greene.
When Raphe of Rokeby saw the rape,
He wist that there had bin debate,
Whereat the sewe had beene.