‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward; ‘Upon the sea, if hee be there; I will bring him and his shipp to shore, Or before my prince I will never come neere.’ The ffirst of all my lord did call, A noble gunner hee was one; This man was three score yeeres and ten, And Peeter Simon was his name. ‘Peeter,’ sais hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seeke out an enemye; God be my speed! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred guners thoust be my head.’ ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ‘if you have chosen mee Of a hundred gunners to be the head, Hange mee att your maine-mast tree If I misse my marke past three pence bread.’ The next of all my lord he did call, A noble bowman hee was one; In Yorekshire was this gentleman borne, And William Horsley was his name. ‘Horsley,’ sayes hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seeke out an enemye; God be my speede! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred bowemen thoust be my head.’ ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ‘if you have chosen mee Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, Hang me att your maine-mast tree If I misse my marke past twelve pence bread.’ With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea On the day before midsummer-even, And out at Thames mouth sayled they. They had not sayled dayes three Upon their iourney they tooke in hand, But there they mett with a noble shipp, And stoutely made itt both stay and stand. ‘Thou must tell me thy name,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward, Or who thou art, or ffrom whence thou came, Yea, and where thy dwelling is, To whom and where thy shipp does belong.’ ‘My name,’ sayes hee, ‘is Henery Hunt, With a pure hart and a penitent mind; I and my shipp they doe belong Unto the New-castle that stands upon Tine.’ Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt, As thou hast sayled by day and by night, Hast thou not heard of a stout robber? Men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.’ But ever he sighed, and sayd, ‘Alas! Ffull well, my lord, I know that wight; He robd me of my merchants ware, And I was his prisoner but yester-night. As I was sayling upon the sea, And [a] Burdeaux voyage as I did ffare, He clasped me to his archborde, And robd me of all my merchants-ware. And I am a man both poore and bare, And every man will have his owne of me, And I am bound towards London to ffare, To complaine to my prince Henerye.’ ‘That shall not need,’ sais my lord Haward; ‘If thou canst lett me this robber see, Ffor every peny he hath taken thee ffroe, Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling,’ quoth hee.