Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne, Hys axe out hys hand he wronge, On echè syde he smote them downe, Hym thought he taryed to long. LXXXII Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two, ‘Thys daye let us lyve and die, If e’er you have nede, as I have now, The same you shall finde by me.’ LXXXIII They shot so well in that tyde (Theyr stringes were of silke ful sure) That they kept the stretes on every side; That batayle did long endure. LXXXIV They fought together as brethren true, Lyke hardy men and bolde, Many a man to the ground they threw, And many a herte made colde. LXXXV But when their arrowes were all gon, Men presyd to them full fast, They drew theyr swordès then anone, And theyr bowès from them cast. LXXXVI They went lyghtlye on theyr way, Wyth swordes and bucklers round; By that it was mydd of the day, They had made many a wound. LXXXVII There was many an out-horne[680] in Carleile blowen, And the belles backwarde dyd ryng; Many a woman sayde, Alas! And many theyr handes dyd wryng. LXXXVIII The Mayre of Carleile forth com was, Wyth hym a ful great route: These thre yemen dred hym full sore, For theyr lyvès stode in doute. LXXXIX The Mayre came armèd a full great pace, With a polaxe in hys hande; Many a strong man wyth him was, There in that stowre[681] to stande. XC The Mayre smot at Cloudesley with his byll, Hys buckler he brast in two, Full many a yeman with great yll, ‘Alas! Treason!’ they cryed for wo. ‘Kepe well the gatès fast we wyll, That these traytours therout not go.’ XCI But al for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde, Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought Were gotten without, at a braide[682]. XCII ‘Have here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘Myne office I here forsake; And yf you do by my counsell A new porter do ye make.’ XCIII He threw theyr keys there at theyr hedes, And bad them well to thryve, And all that letteth[683] any good yeman To come and comfort his wyfe. XCIV Thus be these good yeman gon to the wode As lyghtly as lefe on lynde[684]; They laughe and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr enemyes were farre behynd. XCV When they came to Inglyswode, Under theyr trysty tre, There they found bowès full good, And arrowès great plentye. XCVI ‘So God me help,’ sayd Adam Bell, And Clym of the Clough so fre, ‘I would we were in mery Carleile, Before that fayre meynye[685].’ XCVII They set them downe, and made good chere, And eate and dranke full well.-- A second Fyt of the wightye yeomen: Another I wyll you tell. _Fytte the Third._ XCVIII