mervaile,' said Cloudesle,
'As betweyne thys and pryme,
He that maketh thys grave for me,
Hymselfe may lye therin.'

73.
'Thou speakest proudlye,' said the justice,
'I shall hange thee with my hande.'
Full wel that herd his brethren two
There styl as they dyd stande.

74.
Then Cloudesle cast his eyen asyde,
And saw hys brethren stande
At a corner of the market place,
With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand,
Redy the justyce for to chase.

75.
'I se good comfort,' sayd Cloudesle,
'Yet hope I well to fare,
If I might have my handes at wyll
Ryght lytel wold I care.'

76.
Than bespake good Adam Bell
To Clym of the Clough so free,
'Brother, se ye marke the justyce wel;
Lo! yonder ye may him se:

77.
'And at the shyrife shote I wyll
Strongly wyth an arrowe kene;
A better shote in mery Carlile
Thys seven yere was not sene.'

78.
They loosed their arrowes both at once,
Of no man had they drede;
The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe,
That both theyr sides gan blede.

79.
All men voyded, that them stode nye,
Whan the justice fell to the grounde,
And the sherife fell nye hym by;
Eyther had his deathes wounde.

80.
All the citezens fast gan fle,
They durst no longer abyde:
There lyghtly they loosed Cloudeslee,
Where he with ropes lay tyde.

81.
Wyllyam stert to an officer of the towne,
Hys axe out hys hand he wronge,
On eche syde he smote them downe,
Hym thought he had taryed too long.

82.
Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two,
'Thys daye let us lyve and die,
If ever you have nede, as I have now,
The same shall you finde by me.'

83.
They shot so well in that tyde,
For theyr stringes were of silke ful sure,
That they kept the stretes on every side;
That batayle did long endure.

84.
They fought together as brethren true,
Lyke hardy men and bolde,
Many a man to the ground they threw,
And made many an herte colde.

85.
But whan their arrowes were all gon,
Men presyd on them full fast,
They drew theyr swordes than anone,
And theyr bowes from them cast.

86.
They went lyghtlye on theyr way,
Wyth swordes and buclers round;
By that it was the myddes of the day,
They had made many a wound.

87.
There was many an out-horne in Carleil blowen,
And the belles backward