‘Alas!’ then sayde the lytle boye, ‘Ye tary here all too longe; Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned[669] to death, And readye for to honge.’ XLVII ‘Alas!’ then sayd good Adam Bell, ‘That ever we saw thys daye! He had better have tarryed with us, So ofte as we dyd him praye. XLVIII ‘He myght have dwelt in grene foreste, Under the shadowes greene, And have kepte both hym and us att reste, Out of all trouble and teene[670].’ XLIX Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great hart sone hee had slayne: ‘Take that, chylde, to thy dynner, And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’ L ‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yeomen, ‘Tarry we no longer here; We shall hym borowe[671] by God his grace, Though we buy itt full dere.’ LI To Carleile wente these bold yemen, All in a mornyng of maye.-- Here is a Fyt of Cloudesley, And another is for to saye. _Fytte the Second_ LII And when they came to mery Carleile, In a fayre mornyng tyde, They founde the gates shut them untyll About on every syde. LIII ‘Alas!’ then sayd good Adam Bell, ‘That ever we were made men! These gates be shut so wonderly well, We may not come therein.’ LIV Then bespake him Clym of the Clough, ‘With a wyle we wyl us in bryng; Let us say we be messengers, Streyght comen from our King.’ LV Adam said, ‘I have a letter written, Now let us wysely werke, We wyl saye we have the Kyngè’s seale; I holde the porter no clerke.’ LVI Then Adam Bell bete on the gates With strokès great and stronge: The porter herde such a noyse therat, And to the gates he thronge[672]. LVII ‘Who is there now,’ sayd the porter, ‘That maketh all thys knockinge?’-- ‘We be two messengers,’ quoth Clym of the Clough, ‘Be come ryght from our Kynge.’-- LVIII ‘We have a letter,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘To the Justice we must it brynge; Let us in our message to do, That we were agayne to the Kynge.’-- LIX ‘Here commeth none in,’ sayd the porter, ‘By hym that dyed on a tre, Tyll a false thefe be hangèd, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’ LX Then spake the good yeman, Clym of the Clough, And swore by Mary fre, ‘And if that we stande long wythout, Lyke a thefe hangèd shalt thou be. LXI ‘Lo! here we have got the Kynge’s seale: What, lordane[673], art thou wode[674]?’ The porter wende[675] it had ben so, And lyghtly dyd off hys hode. LXII ‘Welcome is my lordes seale,’ he saide; ‘For that ye shall come in.’ He opened the gate right shortlye: An evyl openyng for him! LXIII ‘Now are we in,’ sayde Adam Bell, ‘Wherof we are full faine; But Christ he knowes, that harowed hell, How we shall come out agayne.’