25 Fayre Alice folowed hi_m_ as a louer true, With a pollaxe in her hande: ‘He shalbe deade that here co_m_eth in Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’ 26 Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe, That was of trusty tre, He smot the justise on the brest, That hys arrowe brest in thre. 27 ‘God’s curse on his hartt,’ saide William, ‘Thys day thy cote dyd on; If it had ben no better then myne, It had gone nere thy bone.’ 28 ‘Yelde the, Cloudesle,’ sayd the justise, ‘And thy bowe a_nd_ thy arrowes the fro:’ ‘Gods curse on hys hart,’ sayde fair Al[i]ce, ‘That my husband councelleth so.’ 29 ‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the sherife, ‘Syth it wyll no better be, And brenne we therin William,’ he saide, ‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’ 30 They fyred the house in many a place, The fyre flew vpon hye; ‘Alas!’ than cryed fayr Alice, ‘I se we shall here dy.’ 31 William openyd hys backe wyndow, That was in hys chambre on hye, And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe, And hys chyldren thre. 32 ‘Haue here my treasure,’ sayde William, ‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre; For Christes loue do them no harme, But wreke you all on me.’ 33 Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, Tyll hys arrowes were all go, And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell, That hys bo[w]stryng brent in two. 34 The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle; But than was he a wofull man, and sayde, Thys is a cowardes death to me. 35 ‘Leuer I had,’ sayde Wyllyam, ‘With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne ennemyes wode Thus cruelly to bren.’ 36 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, And among them all he ran; Where the people were most in prece, He smot downe many a man. 37 There myght no man stand hys stroke, So fersly on them he ran; Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, And so toke that good yeman. 38 There they hym bounde both hand and fote, And in depe dongeon hym cast; ‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayde the hye justice, ‘Thou shalt be hanged in hast.’ 39 ‘One vow shal I make,’ sayde the sherife, ‘A payre of new galowes shall I for the make, And al the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte, There shall no man come in therat. 40 ‘Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe, Nor yet Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the deuels in hell.’ 41 Early in the mornyng the justice vprose, To the gates fast gan he gon, And commaunded to be shut full cloce Lightile euerychone. 42 Then went he to the market-place, As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set, Besyde the pyllory. 43 A lytle boy stod them amonge, And asked what meaned that gallow-tre; They sayde, To hange a good yeaman, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.