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" Whatte though I onne a sledde be drawne,

And mangled by a hynde,
I doe defye the traytor's pow'r,

Hee can ne harm my mynde ;

“ Whatte though, uphoisted onne a pole,

Mye lymbes shall rotte ynne ayre, And ne ryche monument of brasse

Charles Bawdin's name shall bear;

“ Yett ynne the holie book above,

Whyche tyme can't eate awaie, There wythe the sarvants of the Lorde

Mye name shall lyve for aie.

“ Thenne welcome dethe! for lyfe eterne

I leave thys mortall lyfe : Farewell, vayne worlde, and all that's deare,

Mye sonnes and lovynge wyfe!

« Nowe dethe as welcome to mee comes

As e'er the moneth of Maie; Nor woulde I even wyshe to lyve,

Wyth my dere wyfe to staie.”

Quod Canynge, “ 'Tys a goodlie thynge

To bee prepar'd to die;
And from thys worlde of peyne and grefe

To Godde yone heav'n to die.”

And nowe the belle began to tolle,

And claryonnes to sound;
Syr Charles hee herde the horses feete

A prauncyng onne the grounde :

And just before the officers

His lovynge wyfe came ynne, Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe,

Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.

“ Sweet Florence ! nowe I praie forbere,

Ynn quiet lett mee die;
Praie Godde that ev'ry Christian soule

Maye looke onne dethe as I.

“ Sweet Florence! why these brinie teeres ?.

Theye washe my soule awaie,
And almost make mee wyshe for lyfe,

Wyth thee, sweete dame, to staie.

6 'Tys butt a journie I shall goe

Untoe the lande of blysse;
Nowe, as a proofe of husbande's love,

Receive thys holie kysse."

Thenne Florence, fault'ring ynne her saie,

Tremblynge these wordes spoke, " Ah, cruele Edwarde! bloudie kynge!

Mye herte ys welle nyghe broke:

“ Ah, sweete Syr Charles ! why wylt thou goe

Wythoute thye lovynge wyfe?
The cruelle axe thatt cuttes thye necke,

Ytte eke shall ende mye lyfe.”

And nowe the officers came ynne

To brynge Syr Charles awaie, Whoe turnedd toe hys lovynge wyfe,

And thus to her dydd saie:

“ I goe'to lyfe, and nott to dethe;

Truste thou ynne Godde above,
And teache thy' sonnes to feare the Lorde,

And ynne theyre hertes hym love:

66 Teache them to runne the nobile race

Thatt I theyre fader runne;
Florence! shou'd dethe thee take-adieu !

Yee officers, leade onne.”

Thenne Florence rav'd as anie madde,

And dydd her tresses tere; “Oh staie mye husbande, lorde, and lyfe!"

Syr Charles thenne dropt a teare.

'Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge loude,

Shee fellen opne the flore;
Syr Charles exerted alle hys myghte,

And march'd fromm oute the dore.

Uponne a sledde hee mounted thenne,

Wythe lookes fulle brave and swete; Lookes thatt enshone ne moe concern

Thanne anie ynne the strete.

Before hym went the council-menne, i

Ynne scarlett robes and golde,
And tassils spanglynge ynne the sunne,

Muche glorious to beholde :

The Freers of Seincte Augustyne next

Appeared to the syghte,
Alle cladd ynne homelie russett weedes,

Of godlie monkysh plyghte:

Ynne diffraunt partes a godlie psaume

Moste sweetlie theye dyd chaunt; Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles came,

Who tun'd the strunge bataunt,

Thenne fyve-and-twenty archers came;

Echone the bowe dydd bende,
From rescue of Kynge Henries friends

Syr Charles forr to defend.

Bolde as a lyon came Syr Charles,

Drawne onne a cloth-layde sledde, Bye two blacke stedes ynne trappynges white,

Wyth plumes uponne theyre hedde:

Behynde bym fyve-and-twenty moe

Of archers stronge and stoute,
Wyth bended bowe echone ynne hande,

Marched ynne goodlie route;

Seincte Jạmeses Freers marched next,

Echone hys parte dydd chaunt; Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles came,

Who tun'd the strunge bataunt:

Thenne came the maior and eldermenne,

Yone clothe of scarlett deck’t:
And theyre attendyng menne echone,

Lyke easterne princes trick't:

And after them a multitude

Of citizens dydd thronge;
The wyndowes were alle fulle of heddes

As hee dydd passe alonge,

And whenne hee came to the hyghe crosse,

Syr Charles dydd turne and saie, « O thou thatt savest manne fromme synne,

Washe mye soule clean thys daie !"

Att the grete mynster wyndowe sat

The kynge ynne myckle state, To see Charles Bawdin goe alonge

To hys most welcom fate.

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