Haved at thayre gau char
schame of thar note.
Wer never dogges there
Hurled out of herre
fro coylthe ne cotte.
Translation.—May Wales be accursed of God and of St. Simon!—for it has always been full of treason.
May Scotland be accursed of the mother of God!—and may Wales be sunk down deep to the devil!—In neither of them was there ever truth.—For as soon as war was commenced in Wales,—and the covenant which had been cut out in Aquitaine—was broken and refused by the King of France,—and Edward and Philip began hostilities,—the foolish King of Scotland, named John Baliol,—who was brought to the kingdom by King Edward,—by the seductions of his false baronage,—against his homage and against his fealty,—sent messengers to the court of Rome—to pope Celestin, who at the time held the see,—by a trick falsely showed—that the kingdom of Scotland with the dignity—ought to hold of him by testimony of ancient times,—and that King Edward by force and might—made him do homage against his will;—and prays that he may be absolved and delivered—from his faith to the king, to whom he was sworn.—Pope Celestin, too unadvised,—absolves the King of Scotland by his bull.—As soon as the thing is announced in Scotland,—the barons have made to their disgrace—twelve peers of Scotland, and have taken counsel—to disinherit Edward of the sovereignty.—For the great honour which Edward the prudent—did to John Baliol, such is the goodness—with which King Edward—by King John the sleeveless—is rewarded.—With Scotland let it be as it may,—it is needful for us to complete—the history before mentioned.
When Morgan has submitted, and Madoc is taken,—the king returns to London by the advice of his friends.—Two cardinals of Rome the pope has sent there,—who had talked with the King of France at Paris;—the pope has interfered to establish love between them.—The cardinals have stated their object to the king;—pressingly they have requested Edward and Philip—to remain in peace each in his country,—like good people of power and value,—who on no side make themselves enemies;—or that the pope himself should be their judge,—to effect the reconciliation wherever might be the trespass.
Whilst the cardinals were talking of the peace,—the people of Normandy came to Dover,—along with them were those of Calais.—They entered suddenly into the town of Dover,—and began to burn a part of the town;—of young and old they killed thirteen men.—When they came to the reckoning, they left ten for one.—The keeper of the castle and those who remained,—and the monks of the cell, who bare themselves well,—took to their defence and cried out upon them;—Normans and Picards who had put themselves in debt,—were let out of pledge; the hats remained—with the heads of some, the others went away.—There was a monk in truth, to whom twenty bowed down,—and he absolved them all, they knew not a word more.—The cardinals afterwards repaired to Paris;—I do not know what answer they carried from the king.—Nevertheless divers among them said,—that all the conversations would come to this at last,—that Edward and Philip should withdraw their people,—so that people should go by sea and by land,—in sufferance of peace, as friends could;—the English would perform the agreement,—if the Germans would agree with them.
Whilst the cardinals are interfering—to re-establish the peace, and to make the kings friends,—Thomas de Turbevile, who was taken at Rion,—has talked so much to the Provost of Paris,—that he has done his homage to him, and given as hostages—his two sons in keeping, and solemnly promised—to go to England to spy the country,—and to say to King Edward that he came a fugitive—escaped from prison among his enemies.—The Provost agreed to it, and put in his writing—a hundred pounds of land on such a devise;—and Thomas pledges on the Gospels,—that all England, and Wales and the Marches,—and all who are of value in the kingdom of Scotland,—shall bow to Philip the son of Louis.