And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bad hym stande styll therat,
And turned the childes face fro him,
Because he shuld not sterte.240
An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent;
Syxe score paces they were out met,
And thether Cloudeslè went.
There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,245
Hys bowe was great and longe,
He set that arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge.
He prayed the people that was there,
That they would styll stande,250
"For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoveth a stedfast hand."
Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,
That hys lyfe saved myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote,255
There was many a weping eye.
Thus Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,
[That many a man myght se;]
"Over gods forbode," sayde the kynge,
"That thou shote at me!260
"I geve the xviii. pence a day,
And my bowe shalt thou beare,
And over all the north countre,
I make the chyfe rydere."
"And I geve the xvii. pence a day," said the quene,265
"By god and by my fay;
Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,
No man shall say the nay.
"Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman,
Of clothyng and of fe,270
And thi two brethren yemen of my chambre,
For they are so semely to se.
"Your sonne, for he is tendre of age,
Of my wyne-seller shall he be,
And whan he commeth to mannes estate,275
Better avaunced shall he be.