But thou haddest brought thy pay ?

For god, than sayd the knyght,

To pray of a lenger daye. {21}

Thy daye is broke, sayd the justyce,

Londe getest thou none.

“Now, good syr justyce, be my frende,

And fende me of my fone.”

I am holde with the abbot, sayd the justyce,

Bothe with cloth and fee.

“Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende.”