"Speke boldlie, manne," sayd brave fyr Charles, "Whatte says thie traytor kynge?"

"I greeve to telle, before yonne fonne
"Does fromme the welkinn flye,
"Hee hath uponne hys honour fworne,
"That thou fhalt furelie die."

"Wee all must die," quod brave fyr Charles; "Of thatte I'm not affearde;

"Whatte bootes to lyve a little space ?

"Thanke Jefu, I'm prepar'd:

Butt telle thye kynge, for myne hee's not, "I'de fooner die to-daie

Thanne lyve hys flave, as manie are,

"Tho' I shoulde lyve for aie."

Then Canterlone hee dydd goe out,
To telle the maior ftraite

To gett all thynges ynne reddyness
For goode fyr Charleses fate.

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Then maisterr Canynge faughte the kynge,

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And felle down onne hys knee;

"I'm come," quod he, " unto your grace,

"To move your clemencye."

Thenne quod the kynge, "Youre tale fpeke out,

"You have been much oure friende ; "Whatever youre request may bee, "Wee wylle to ytte attende."

"My nobile leige! alle my requeft

"Ys for a nobile knyghte,

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Who, tho' may hap hee has donne wronge, 55 "Hee thoghte ytte ftylle was ryghte:

"Hee has a fpoufe and children twaine, "Alle rewyn'd are for aie;

"Yff thatt you are refolv'd to lett "Charles Bawdin die to-daie."

"Speke nott of fuch a traytour vile,"
The kynge ynne furie fayde;
"Before the evening ftarre doth fheene,

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"And hee fhalle have hys meede:

"Speke, maister Canynge! Whatte thynge elfe "Att prefent doe you neede?"

My nobile leige!" good Canynge fayde, "Leave justice to our godde,

"And laye the yronne rule afyde; "Be thyne the olyve rodde.

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"Was Godde to ferche our hertes and reines,

"The best were fynners grete ; "Chrift's vycarr only knowes ne fynne, "Ynne alle thys mortall state.

"Lett mercie rule thyne infante reigne, " "Twylle fafte thye crowne fulle fure ; "From race to race thy familie

"All fov'reigns shall endure:

"Butt yff wythe bloode and flaughter thou "Beginne thy infante reigne,

Thy crowne uponne thy childrennes brows

"Wylle never long remayne."

"Canynge, awaie! thys traytour vile
"Has fcorn'd my power and mee;
"Howe canft thou thenne for fuch a manne
"Intreate my clemencye ?"

"My nobile leige! the trulie brave

"Wylle val'rous actions prize,

"Respect a brave and nobile mynde,

"Altho' ynne enemies."

"Canynge, awaie! By Godde ynne heav'n
"Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve,

"I wylle nott taste a bitt of breade
"Whilft thys fyr Charles dothe lyve.

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By Marie, and alle feinetes ynne heav'n,

Thys funne fhall be hys lafte."

Thenne Canynge dropt a brinie teare,
And from the presence paste.

Wyth herte brymm-fulle of gnawynge grief,
Hee to fyr Charles dydd goe,

And fatt hymm downe uponne a ftoole,

And teares beganne to flowe.

"Wee all must die," quod brave fyr Charles;

"Whatte bootes ytte howe or whenne? "Dethe ys the fure, the certaine fate "Of all wee mortall menne.

Saye why, my friend, thie honeft foul "Runns overr att thyne eie;

. Is ytte for my moft welcome doome "Thatt thou doft child-lyke crye ?"

Quod godlie Canynge, "I doe weepe, "That thou foe foone muft dye,

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"And leave thy fonnes and helpless wyfe; 115

"Thenne drie the tears thatt out thyne eye

"From godlie fountaines fprynge;

"Dethe I despise, and alle the power

"Of Edwarde, traytor kynge.

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"Whan throgh the tyrant's welcom means " I shall refigne my lyfe,

"The godde I ferve wylle foone provyde "For bothe mye fonnes and wyfe.

"Before I fawe the lyghtfome funne, "Thys was appointed mee;

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"Shall mortal manne repyne or grudge

"Howe dydd I knowe thatt ev'ry darte,

"Thatt cutte the airie waie,

"Myghte nott fynde paffage toe my harte, 135 "And close myne eyes for aie?

"And fall I nowe, forr feere of dethe,
"Looke wanne and bee dyfmayde?
"Ne! fromm my herte flie chyldyfhe feere,
"Bee alle the manne display'd.

“Ah, goddelyke Henrie! Godde forefende,
"And guarde thee and thye fonne,
"Yff 'tis hys wylie; but yff 'tis nott,

"Why thenne hys wylle bee donne..

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