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KING ESTMERE.

HEARKEN to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;

Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren
That ever borne y-were.

The tone of them was Adler younge,
The tother was Kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deeds,
As any were farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within Kyng Estmeres halle:
"When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to glad us all?"

Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
And answered him hastilee:
"I know not that ladye in any land
That's able to marry with mee."

"Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene."

Saies, "Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry England,

Where we might find a messenger

Betwixt us towe to sende."

Saies, "You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,

Ile beare you companye;

Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,

And I feare lest soe shold wee."

Thus the renisht them to ryde

Of twoe good renisht steeds,

And when the came to King Adlands halle, Of redd gold shone their weeds.

And when they came to Kyng Adlands hall
Before the goodlye gate,

There they found good Kyng Adlànd
Rearing himselfe theratt.

"Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adlànd; Now Christ you save and see,

Sayd, "You be welcome, King Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.'

"You have a daughter," said Adler younge, "Men call her bright and sheene, My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene."

"Yesterday was att my deere daughter Syr Bremor the Kyng of Spayne; And then she nicked him of naye,

And I doubt sheele do you the same."

"The Kyng of Spayne is a foule paynìm,
And 'leeveth on Mahound;

And pitye it were that fayre ladyè
Shold marrye a heathen hound.'

"But grant to me," sayes Kyng Estmere,
"For my love I you praye;
That I may see your daughter deere
Before I goe hence awaye."

"Although itt is seven yeers and more
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake
To glad my guestès alle."

Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes laced in pall,

And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
And as many gentle squiers,

To tend upon them all.

The talents of golde were on her head sette,
Hanged low downe to her knee;

And everye ring on her small fingèr
Shone of the chrystall free.

Saies, "God you save, my deere madàm;"
Saies, "God you save and see,"

Said, "you be welcome, Kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.

"And if you love me, as you saye,

Soe well and hartilèe,

All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt shal bee."

Then bespake her father deare:

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"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,

I cannot blame him if he doe,

If I reave him of his wyfe."

"Your castles and your towres, father,

Are stronglye built aboute;

And therefore of the King of Spaine
We neede not stande in doubt.

"Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmère, By heaven and your righte hand,

That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land.'

Then King Estmere he plight his troth
By heaven and his right hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.

And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,
To goe to his owne countree,

To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed they might bee.

They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the Kyng of Spayne,
With kempès many a one,

But in did come the Kyng of Spayne,
With manye a bold barone,

Tone day to marrye King Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.

Shee sent one after Kyng Estmère
In all the spede might bee,

That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose his ladye.

One whyle then the page he went,
Another while he ranne;

Till he had oretaken King Estmere,
I wis, he never blanne.

"Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere!"
"What tydinges nowe, my boye?"
"O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.

"You had not ridden scant a mile,
A mile out of the towne,

But in did come the Kyng of Spayne
With kempès many a one :

"But in did come the Kyng of Spayne
With manye a bolde barone,

Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry her home.

"My ladye fayre she greetes you well,
And ever-more well by mee:

You must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose your ladyè."

Saies, "Reade me, reade me, deere brother,
My reade shall ryse at thee,

Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
Or go home and loose my ladye."

"Now hearken to me,"

sayes Adler yonge,

"And your reade must rise at me,

I quicklye will devise a waye

To sette thy ladye free.

"My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramaryè,
And when I learned at the schole,
Something shee taught itt mee.

"There growes an hearbe within this field,
And iff it were but knowne,
His color, which is whyte and redd,
It will make blacke and browne:

"His color, which is browne and blacke,
Itt will make redd and whyte;
That sworde is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.

"And you shal be a harper, brother,
Out of the north countrye;

And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte,
And beare your harpe by your knee.

"And you shal be the best harpèr, That ever tooke harpe in hand; And I will be the best singèr,

That ever sung in this lande.

"Itt shal be written in our forheads
All and in grammaryè,

That we towe are the boldest men,
That are in all Christentyè."

And thus they renisht them to ryde,

On tow good renish steedes;

And when they came to King Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes.

And whan they came to Kyng Adlands hall,

Untill the fayre hall yate,

There they found a proud portèr

Rearing himselfe thereatt.

Sayes, "Christ thee save, thou proud portèr;" Sayes, "Christ thee save and see."

"Nowe you be welcome," sayd the portèr, "Of what land soever ye bee."