X
He toke his leave of hys brethren two,
And to Carleile he is gon:
There he knock’d at his owne windòwe
Shortlye and anone.
XI
‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce,’ he sayd,
‘My wife and chyldren three?
Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbànde,
Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’—
XII
‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce,
And syghèd wonderous sore,
‘Thys place hath ben besette for you
Thys halfè yere and more.’—
XIII
‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesley,
‘I would that in I were.
Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe,
And let us make good chere.’
XIV
She fetchèd hym meate and drynke plentye,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe;
And pleasèd hym with that she had,
Whom she loved as her lyfe.