The were as bolde men in their deedes, As they were drinking ale and wine When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, 10 Then bespake him kyng Estmere, And answered him hastilee : I knowe not that ladye in any lande, 15 Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, If I were kyng here in your stead, Sayes, Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betweene us two to sende. 20 Sayes, You shall ryde yourselfe, brother, 25 Ile beare you companèe; Many throughe fals messengers are deceived, Ver. 14, hartilye. fol. MS. V. 27, many a man. *He means fit, suitable. Thus the renisht them to ryde Of twoe good renisht steedes, And when they came to kyng Adlands halle, Of red golde shone their weedes. And when the came to kyng Adlands halle Before the goodlye yate, Ther they found good kyng Adlànd Rearing himselfe theratt. Nowe Christ thee save, good kyng Adland; Nowe Christ thee save and see. Sayd, You be welcome, kyng Estmere, You have a daughter, sayd Adler yonge, Men call her bright and sheene, Yesterdaye was att my dere daughtèr Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne; And then she nicked him of naye, I feare sheele do youe the same. 30 35 40 45 The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynìm, 50 V. 46, the king his sonne of Spayn. fol. MS. And pitye it were that fayre ladyè But grant to me, sayes kyng Estmere, That I may see your daughter dere Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more Syth my daughter was in halle, 55 She shall come downe once for your sake To glad my guestès alle. 60 Downe then came that mayden fayre, With ladyes lacede in pall, And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes, To bring her from bowre to hall; And eke as manye gentle squieres, To waite upon them all. The talents of golde, were on her head sette, And everye rynge on her small finger, Shone of the chrystall free. Sayes, Christ you save, my deare madàme; Sayes, Christ you save and see. Sayes, You be welcome, kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee. 65 70 And iff you love me, as you saye, All that ever you are comen about Then bespake her father deare: My daughter, I saye naye; Remember well the kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye. He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyfe: And ever I feare that paynim kyng, Iff I reave him of his wyfe. Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute; And therefore of that foule paynìm Wee neede not stande in doubte. Plyght me your troth, nowe, kyng Estmère, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth 75 80 85 90 95 And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne countree, To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes, That marryed the might bee. 100 Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter, 110 Then shee sent after kyng Estmère In all the spede might bee, That he must either returne and fighte, One whyle then the page he went, 115 Till he had oretaken king Estmere, Tydinges, tydinges, kyng Estmere! That will you sore annoye. 120 |