ffor now am I a kynge alone,
So wurthy as I may ther be none,
Therfore knyghtes be mery echone,
ffor now my ffo is dede!
Primus Miles. Whan the boys sprawlyd at my sperys hende,
By Sathanas, oure syre, it was a goodly syght!
A good game it was the boy for to shende,
That wolde a bene oure kynge and put ȝow from ȝour ryght.
Secundus Miles. Now trewly, my lorde the kynge, we had ben unkende,
And nevyr non of us able for to be a knyght;