"Plyght me your troth nowe, kyng Estmere,
By heaven and your righte hande,
That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land."
Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth95
By heaven and his righte hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.
And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,
To goe to his owne countree,100
To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed they might bee.
They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the kynge of Spayne,105
With kempès many a one:
But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With manye a grimme barone,
Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.110
Then shee sent after kyng Estmere,
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either returne and fighte,
Or goe home and lose his ladye.
One whyle then the page he went,115
Another whyle he ranne;
Till he had oretaken king Estmere,
Iwis he never blanne.
"Tydinges, tydinges, kyng Estmere!"
"What tydinges nowe, my boye?"120
"O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.
"You had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle out of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne125
With kempès many a one: