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.”