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cxxx The Quene was a glad woman,
And sayde, ' Lord, gramarcy ! I dare and undertake for them
That true men shal they be.
' But good lord, speke som mery word,
That comfort they may se.'— ' I graunt you grace,' then sayd our Kyngc;
' Washe, felows, and to meate go ye.'
They had not setten but a whyle,
Certayne without lesynge, There came messengers out of the north
With letters to our Kynge.
And whan they came before the Kynge, They knelt downe on theyr kne;
And sayd, ' Lord, your officers grete you well, Of Carleile in the north countre.'
i How faretb my Justice,' sayd the Kynge,
' And my Sheryfe also I'— ' Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,
And many an officer mo.'—
cxxxv ' Who hath them slayne,' sayd the Kynge,
' Anone that thou tell me.'— 6 Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesley.'— 490