Then Cloudesley cast his eyen asyde
And saw hys brethren stande
At a corner of the market place,
With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand.
LXXV
‘I se comfort,’ sayd Cloudesley;
‘Yet hope I well to fare;
If I might have my handes at wyll.
Ryght lytell wolde I care.’
LXXVI
Then bespake good Adam Bell
To Clym of the Clough so fre,
‘Brother, se you marke the Justyce wel;
Lo! yonder you may him se:
LXXVII
‘And at the Sheryfe shote I wyll
Strongly wyth an arrowe kene.’—
A better shote in mery Carleile
Thys seven yere was not sene.
LXXVIII
They loosed their arrowes both at once,
Of no man had they drede;
The one hyt the Justice, the other the Sheryfe,
That both theyr sides gan blede.