The[y] sayed, "Lord, we beseche the here,
That ye wyll graunt us grace,
For we haue slaine your fat falow der,
In many a sondry place."80
"What be your nam[e]s?" then said our king,
"Anone that you tell me:
They sayd, "Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough,
And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."
"Be ye those theves," then sayd our kyng,85
"That men have tolde of to me?
Here to god I make a vowe,
Ye shal be hanged al thre.
"Ye shal be dead without mercy,
As I am kynge of this lande."90
He commanded his officers everichone
Fast on them to lay hand.
There they toke these good yemen,
And arested them all thre:
"So may I thryve," sayd Adam Bell,95
"Thys game lyketh not me.
"But, good lorde, we beseche you now,
That you graunt vs grace,
Insomuche as we be to you comen,
Or els that we may fro you passe,100
"With such weapons as we have here,
Tyll we be out of your place;
And yf we lyve this hundreth yere,
We wyll aske you no grace."
"Ye speake proudly," sayd the kynge,105
"Ye shall be hanged all thre:"
"That were great pitye," then sayd the quene,
"If any grace myght be.
"My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande,
To be your wedded wyfe,110
The fyrst bowne that I wold aske,
Ye would graunt it me belyfe;
"And I asked never none tyll now,
Therefore, good lorde, graunte it me."
"Now aske it, madam," sayd the kynge,115
"And graunted shall it be."