And caste hym in a depe dongeòn,
And toke hys keys hym fro.
"Now am I porter," sayd Adam Bel,
"Se brother, the keys are here,
The worst porter to merry Carleile
That ye had thys hundred yere.
"And now wyll we our bowes bend,
Into the towne wyll we go,
For to delyuer our dere brother,
That lyeth in care and wo."
Then they bent theyr good ewe bowes,
And loked theyr stringes were round,[6]
The markett place in mery Carleile
They beset that stound.
And, as they loked them besyde,
A paire of new galowes they see,
And the justice with a quest of squyers,
That judged William hanged to be.
And Cloudeslè lay redy there in a cart,
Fast bound both fote and hand;
And a stronge rop about hys necke,
All readye for to hange.
The justice called to him a ladde,
Cloudeslès clothes hee shold have,
To take the measure of that yemèn,
Therafter to make hys grave.
"I have sene as great mervaile," said Cloudesle,
"As betweyne thys and pryme,
He that maketh a grave for mee,
Hymselfe may lye therin."
"Thou speakest proudlye," said the justice,
"I will thee hange with my hande."
Full wel herd this his brethren two,
There styll as they dyd stande.
Then Cloudeslè cast his eyen asyde
And saw hys brethren twaine
At a corner of the market place,
Redy the justice for to slaine.
"I se comfort," sayd Cloudeslè,
"Yet hope I well to fare,
If I might have my handes at wyll
Ryght lytle wolde I care."
Then spake good Adam Bell
To Clym of the Clough so free,