"O yee are welcome, rich merchànts,
Good saylors, welcome unto mee:"10
They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
But rich merchànts they cold not bee.
"To France nor Flanders dare we pass,
Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare;
And all for a robber that lyes on the seas,15
Who robbs us of our merchant ware."
King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde,
And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,
"I thought he had not beene in the world,
Durst have wrought England such unright."20
The merchants sighed, and said, "Alas!"
And thus they did their answer frame;
"He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,
And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name."
The king lookt over his left shoulder,25
And an angrye look then looked hee;
"Have I never a lorde in all my realme,
Will feitch yond traytor unto mee?"
"Yea, that dare I," Lord Charles Howard sayes;
"Yea, that dare I, with heart and hand;30
If it please your grace to give me leave,
Myselfe will be the only man."
"Thou art but yong," the kyng replyed,
"Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare:"
"Trust me, my liege, Ile make him quail,35
Or before my prince I will never appeare."
"Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,
And chuse them over my realme so free;
Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,
To guide the great shipp on the sea."40
The first man that Lord Howard chose,
Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten;
Good Peter Simon was his name.
"Peter," sais hee, "I must to the sea,45
To bring home a traytor live or dead;
Before all others I have chosen thee,
Of a hundred gunners to be the head."
"If you, my lord, have chosen mee
Of a hundred gunners to be the head,50
Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,
If I misse my marke one shilling bread."
My lord then chose a boweman rare,
[Whose active hands had gained fame;]
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,55
And William Horseley was his name.
"Horsley," sayd he, "I must with speede
Go seeke a traytor on the sea,
And now of a hundred bowemen brave
To be the head I have chosen thee."60
"If you," quoth hee, "have chosen mee
Of a hundred bowemen to be the head,
On your main-mast Ile hanged bee,
If I miss twelvescore one penny bread."
With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold,65
This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
Out at Thames mouth sayled he.
And days he scant had sayled three,
Upon the journey he tooke in hand,70
But there he mett with a noble shipp,
And stoutely made itt stay and stand.