Styll than sat thes prowde potter,
Thos than thowt he,
As y am a trow Cerstyn man,
Thes schotyng well y se.
When they had fared of the best,
With bred and ale and weyne,
To the ‘bottys they’ [240] made them prest,
With bowes and boltys[241] foll feyne.
The screffes men schot foll fast,
As archares that weren godde,