‘Wee shall for yow praye, syng, and reade, Until Domesdaye wyth heartye speede, With al our progenie.’ Then the lettres wer wele made, The bondes wer bounde wyth seales brade, As deeds of arms sholde bee. Theise men-at-arms thatte wer sea wight, And wyth theire armour burnished bryght, They went the sewe toe see. Scho made at thayme sike a roare, That for her they fear it sore, And almaiste bounde to flee. Scho cam runnyng thayme agayne, And saw the bastarde sonne of Spaine, Hee brayded owt hys brande; Ful spiteouslie at her hee strake, Yet for the fence that he colde make, Scho strake it fro hys hande, And rave asander half hys sheelde, And bare hym backwerde in the fielde, Hee mought not her gainstande. Scho wolde hav riven hys privich geare, But Gilbert wyth hys swerde of warre, Hee strake at her ful strang. In her shouther hee held the swerde; Than was Gilbert sore afearde, When the blade brak in twang. And whan in hande hee had her ta’en, Scho toke hym by the shouther bane, And held her hold ful faste; Scho strave sea stifflie in thatte stoure, Scho byt thro’ ale hys rich armoure, Till bloud cam owt at laste. Than Gilbert grievèd was sea sare, That hee rave off the hyde of haire; The flesh cam fra the bane, And wyth force hee held her ther, And wanne her worthilie in warre, And band her hym alane; And lifte her on a horse sea hee, Into two panyers made of a tree, And toe Richmond anon. When they sawe the felon come, They sange merrilye Te Deum! The freers evrich one. They thankyd God and Saynte Frauncis, That they had wonne the beaste of pris, And nere a man was sleyne: There never didde man more manlye, The Knyght Marone, or Sir Guye, Nor Louis of Lothraine. If yow wyl any more of thys, I’ the fryarie at Richmond {137} written yt is, In parchment gude and fyne, How Freer Myddeltone sea hende, Att Greta Bridge conjured a fiende, In lykeness of a swyne. Yt is wel knowen toe manie a man, That Freer Theobald was warden than, And thys fel in hys tyme. And Chryst thayme bles both ferre and nere, Al that for solas this doe here, And hym that made the ryme. Raphe of Rokeby wid ful gode wyl, The freers of Richmond gav her tyll, This sewe toe mende ther fare; Freer Myddeltone by name, He wold bring the felon hame, That rewed hym sine ful sare. Songs. ARTHUR O’BRADLEY’S WEDDING. [IN the ballad called _Robin Hood_, _his Birth_, _Breeding_, _Valour and Marriage_, occurs the following line:— And some singing Arthur-a-Bradley.