CXLIV
The Kynge’s bowmen buske them[701] blyve[702],
And the Quene’s archers also;
So dyd these thre wyght yemen;
With them they thought to go.
CXLV
There twyse or thryse they shote about
For to assay theyr hande;
There was no shote these yemen shot,
That any prycke[703] myght stand.
CXLVI
Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesley:
‘By God that for me dyed,
I hold hym never no good archar,
That shoteth at buttes so wyde.’—
CXLVII
‘At what a butte now wold ye shote,
I pray thee tell to me?’—
‘Nay, syr,’ he sayd, ‘at such a butte
As men use in my countrè.’
CXLVIII
Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,
And with him his two brethren:
There they set up two hasell roddes
Twenty score paces betwene.