And lay an apple upon his head,
And go syxe score paces hym fro,
And I my selfe with a brode aròw
Shall cleve the apple in two."
"Now haste the," then sayd the kyng,
"By Hym that dyed on a tre,
But if thou do not, as thou hest sayde
Hanged shalt thou be.
"And thou touche his head or gowne,
In syght that men may se,
By all the sayntes that be in heaven,
I shall hange you all thre."
"That I have promised," said Wyllyam,
"That I wyll never forsake."
And there even before the kynge
In the earth he drove a stake
And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bad him stand styll thereat;
And turned the childes face him fro,
Because he should not start.
An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent:
Syxe score paces they were meaten,
And thether Cloudeslè went.
There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,
Hys bow was great and long;
He set that arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge.
He prayed the people, that wer there,
That they all still wold stand,
"For he that shoteth for suche a wager
Behoveth a stedfast hand."
Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,
That his lyfe saved myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote,
There was many weeping ee.
But Cloudeslè he clefte the apple in two,
As many a man might see.
"Over Gods forbode," sayde the kinge,
"That thou shold shote at me.
"I geve thee eightene pence a day,
And my bowe shalt thou here,
And over all the north countrè
I make the chyfe rydère."