[THE THIRD FIT.]
As they sat in Englyshe-wood,
Under theyr [trysty] tre,
Them thought [they] herd a woman wepe,
But her they mought not se.
Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce,
And sayde, "Alas that ever I sawe this daye!
For now is my dere husband slayne,
Alas and wel a way!
"Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere [brethren],
Or with eyther of them twayne,10
[To let them know what him befell]
My hart [were out] of payne!"
Cloudeslè walked a lytle besyde,
And loked under the grenewood linde;
He was ware of hys wife and chyldren thre,15
Full wo in hart and mynde.
"Welcome, wife," then sayde Wyllyam,
"Under [this trysty] tre;
I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John,
Thou shulde me never [have] se."20
"Now well is me," she sayde, "that ye be here,
My hart is out of wo:"
"Dame," he sayde, "be mery and glad,
And thank my [brethren] two."
"Hereof to speake," sayd Adam Bell,25
"I-wis it is no bote;
The meat that we must supp withall
It runneth yet fast on fote."
Then went they down into a launde,
These noble archares all thre,30
Eche of them slew a hart of [greece],
The best they could there se.
"Have here the best, Alyce my wife,"
Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslè,
"By cause ye so bouldly stod by me,35
When I was slayne full nye."