18
Then entred this towne the noble lord,
The Erle Richmond, the rose soe redd;
The Erle of Oxford, with a sword,
Wold haue smitt of the bailiffes head.
19
‘But hold your hand,’ saies Erle Richmond,
‘Ffor his loue that dyed vpon a tree!
Ffor if wee begin to head so soone,
In England wee shall beare no degree.’