"For I have graunted them grace,
And that forthynketh me,
But had I knowne all thys before,
They had been hanged all thre."160
The kyng opened the letter anone,
Hymselfe he red it th[r]o,
And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine
Thre hundred men and mo.
Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe,165
And the mayre of Caerlel towne;
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alyve were left not one.
The baylyes and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law,170
And forty fosters of the fe,
These outlawes had yslaw,
And broke his parks, and slaine his dere;
Over all they chose the best;
So perelous outlawes as they were,175
Walked not by easte nor west.
When the kynge this letter had red,
In hys harte he syghed sore;
"Take vp the table anone," he bad,
"For I may eate no more."180
The kyng called hys best archars,
To the buttes with hym to go;
"I wylle se these felowes shote," he sayd,
In the north have wrought this wo."
The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,185
And the quenes archers also,
So dyd these thre wyght yemèn,
Wyth them they thought to go.
There twyse or thryse they shote about,
For to assay theyr hande;190
There was no shote these yemen shot,
That any prycke might them stand.
Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè,
"By him that for me dyed,
I hold hym never no good archar195
That shuteth at buttes so wyde."