Sir Henry Percy laye at the Newe Castelle, I telle yow withowtten drede; 30 He had byn a march-man all hys dayes, And kepte Barwyke upon Twede. To the Newe Castell when they cam, The Skottes they cryde on hyght, "Syr Harye Percy, and thow byste within, 35 Com to the fylde, and fyght: "For we have brente Northomberlonde, Thy eritage good and ryght; And syne my logeyng I have take, With my brande dubbyd many a knyght." 40 Sir Harry Percy cam to the walles, The Skottyssh oste for to se; "And thow hast brente Northomberlond, Full sore it rewyth me. "Yf thou hast haryed all Bambarowe shyre, 45 Thow hast done me grete envye; For the trespasse thow hast me done, The tone of us schall dye." "Where schall I byde the?" sayd the Dowglas, "Or where wylte thow come to me?" 50 "At Otterborne in the hygh way, Ther maist thow well logeed be. "The roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes, To make the game and glee; The fawkon and the fesaunt both, 55 Amonge the holtes on hye. "Ther maist thow have thy welth at wyll, "Well looged ther maist be; Yt schall not be long or I com the tyll," Sayd Syr Harry Percye. 60 "Ther schall I byde the," sayd the Dowglas, "By the fayth of my bodye:" "Thether schall I com," sayd Syr Harry Percy "My trowth I plyght to the." A pype of wyne he gave them over the walles, 65 For soth, as I yow saye; Ther he mayd the Douglas drynke, And all hys oste that daye. The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne, For soth withowghten naye; 70 He tooke his logeyng at Oterborne Uppon a Wedynsday. And there he pyght hys standerd dowyn, Hys gettyng more and lesse, And syne he warned hys men to goo 75 To chose ther geldyngs gresse. A Skottysshe knyght hoved upon the bent,[L77] A wache I dare well saye; So was he ware on the noble Percy In the dawnynge of the daye. 80 He prycked to his pavyleon dore, As faste as he myght ronne; "Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght, "For hys love, that syttes yn trone. "Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght, 85 "For thow maiste waken wyth wynne; Yender have I spyed the prowde Percy, And seven standardes wyth hym." "Nay by my trowth," the Douglas sayed, "It ys but a fayned taylle; 90 He durste not loke on my bred banner, For all Ynglonde so haylle.