But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo;25
The cronykle wyll not layne:[283]
Forty thowsande Skottes and fowre
That day fowght them agayne.
But when the batell byganne to joyne,
In hast ther came a knyght,30
'Then' letters fayre furth hath he tayne
And thus he sayd full ryght:
My lorde, your father he gretes yow well,
Wyth many a noble knyght;
He desyres yow to byde
That he may see thys fyght.
The Baron of Grastoke ys com owt of the west,
Wyth hym a noble companye;
All they loge at your fathers thys nyght,
And the Battel fayne wold they see.40
For Jesu's love, sayd Syr Harye Percy,
That dyed for yow and me,
Wende to my lorde my Father agayne,
And saye thow saw me not with yee:[284]
My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght,45
It nedes me not to layne,[285]
That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent,
And I have hys trowth agayne:
And if that I wende off thys grownde
For soth unfoughten awaye,50
He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght
In hys londe another daye.
Yet had I lever[286] to be rynde[287] and rente,
By Mary that mykel maye;[288]
Then ever my manhod schulde be reprovyd55
Wyth a Skotte another daye.
Wherfore schote, archars, for my sake,
And let scharpe arowes flee:
Mynstrells, playe up for your waryson,[289]
And well quyt it schall be.60
Every man thynke on hys trewe love,
And marke hym to the Trenite:[290]
For to God I make myne avowe
Thys day wyll I not fle.