"[He borowed foure hondred pounde,]
Upon all his londe fre,
But he come this ylke day
Dysheryte shall he be."
"It is full erely," sayd [the pryoure],25
"The day is not yet ferre gone;
I had lever to pay an hondred pounde,
And lay it downe anone.
"The knight is ferre beyonde the see,
In Englonde is his ryght,30
And suffreth honger and colde,
And many a sory nyght.
"It were grete pytè," said the pryoure,
"So to have his londe;
And ye be so lyght of your conseyence,35
Ye do to him moch wronge."
"Thou art euer in my berde," sayd the abbot,
"By god and saynt Rycharde;"
With that cam in a fat-heded monke,
The heygh selerer.40
"He is dede or hanged," sayd the monke,
"By god that bought me dere,
And we shall have to spende in this place
Foure hondred pounde by yere."
The abbot and the hy selerer,45
Sterte forthe full bolde,
The high justyce of Englonde
The abbot there dyde holde.
The hye justyce and many mo
Had take into their honde50
Holy all the knyghtes det,
To put that knyght to wronge.
They demed the knyght wonder sore,
The abbot and hys meynè:
"But he come this ylke day55
Dysheryte shall he be."
"He wyll not come yet," sayd the justyce,
"I dare well undertake;"
But in sorowe tyme for them all
The knyght came to the gate.60