91. ‘Thou arte ever in my berde,’ sayd the abbot, ‘By God and Saynt Rycharde’; With that cam in a fat-heded monke, The heygh selerer. 92. ‘He is dede or hanged,’ sayd the monke, ‘By God that bought me dere, And we shall have to spende in this place Foure hondred pounde by yere.’ 93. The abbot and the hy selerer Stertë forthe full bolde, The highe justyce of Englonde The abbot there dyde holde. 94. The hye justyce and many mo Had take in to theyr honde Holy all the knyghtës det, To put that knyght to wronge. 95. They demed the knyght wonder sore, The abbot and his meynë: ‘But he come this ylkë day Dysheryte shall he be.’ 96. ‘He wyll not come yet,’ sayd the justyce, ‘I dare well undertake’; But in sorowe tymë for them all The knight came to the gate. 97. Than bespake that gentyll knyght Untyll his meynë: ‘Now put on your symple wedes That ye brought fro the see.’ 98. [They put on their symple wedes,] They came to the gates anone; The porter was redy hymselfe And welcomed them everychone. 99. ‘Welcome, syr knyght,’ sayd the porter, ‘My lorde to mete is he, And so is many a gentyll man, For the love of thee.’ 100. The porter swore a full grete othe: ‘By God that madë me, Here be the best coresed hors That ever yet sawe I me. 101. ‘Lede them in to the stable,’ he sayd, ‘That eased myght they be’; ‘They shall not come therin,’ sayd the knyght, ‘By God that dyed on a tre.’ 102. Lordës were to mete isette In that abbotes hall; The knyght went forth and kneled down, And salved them grete and small. 103. ‘Do gladly, syr abbot,’ sayd the knyght, ‘I am come to holde my day.’ The fyrst word that the abbot spake, ‘Hast thou brought my pay?’ 104. ‘Not one peny,’ sayd the knyght, ‘By God that makëd me.’ ‘Thou art a shrewed dettour,’ sayd the abbot; ‘Syr justyce, drynke to me. 105. ‘What doost thou here,’ sayd the abbot, ‘But thou haddest brought thy pay?’ ‘For God,’ than sayd the knyght, ‘To pray of a lenger daye.’ 106. ‘Thy daye is broke,’ sayd the justyce, ‘Londë getest thou none.’ ‘Now, good syr justyce, be my frende And fende me of my fone!’ 107. ‘I am holde with the abbot,’ sayd the justyce, ‘Both with cloth and fee.’ ‘Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!’ ‘Nay, for God,’ sayd he. 108. ‘Now, good syr abbot, be my frende, For thy curteysë, And holde my londës in thy honde Tyll I have made the gree! 109. ‘And I wyll be thy true servaunte, And trewely serve the, Tyll ye have foure hondred pounde Of money good and free.’ 110. The abbot sware a full grete othe, ‘By God that dyed on a tree, Get the londë where thou may, For thou getest none of me.’