Thourh consail of thes bisshopes ynemned byfore, Sire Robert the Bruytz furst kyng wes ycore; He mai everuche day ys fon him se byfore, Yef hee mowen him hente, i chot he bith forlore, 60 Sauntz fayle. Soht for te sugge, Duere he shal abugge That he bigon batayle. Hii that him crounede proude were ant bolde, 65 Hii maden kyng of somer, so hii ner ne sholde,[L66] Hii setten on ys heved a croune of rede golde, Ant token him a kyneyerde, so me kyng sholde, To deme. Tho he wes set in see, 70 Lutel god couthe he Kyneriche to yeme. Nou kyng Hobbe in the mures yongeth, For te come to toune nout him ne longeth; The barouns of Engelond, myhte hue him grype, 75 He him wolde techen on Englysshe to pype, Thourh streynthe: Ne be he ner so stout, Yet he bith ysoht out O brede ant o leynthe. 80 Sire Edward of Carnarvan, (Jhesu him save ant see!) Sire Emer de Valence, gentil knyht ant free, Habbeth ysuore huere oht that, _par la grace d['e]e_, Hee wolleth ous delyvren of that false contree, Yef hii conne. 85 Muche hath Scotlond forlore, Whet alast, whet bifore, Ant lutel pris wonne. Nou i chulle fonge ther ich er let, Ant tellen ou of Frisel, ase ich ou byhet. 90 In the batayle of Kyrkenclyf Frysel wes ytake; Ys continaunce abatede eny bost to make Biside Strivelyn; Knyhtes ant sweynes, Fremen ant theynes, 95 Monye with hym. So hii weren byset on everuche halve, Somme slaye were, ant somme dreynte hemselve; Sire Johan of Lyndeseye nolde nout abyde, He wod into the water, his feren him bysyde, 100 To adrenche. Whi nolden hii be war? Ther nis non ayeyn star:-- Why nolden hy hem bythenche?