“Teache them to runne the nobile race
    Thatt I theyre fader runne:  250
  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!”—­ 255
    Syr CHARLES thenne dropt a teare.

  ’Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge loud,
    Shee fellen onne the flore;
  Syr CHARLES exerted alle hys myghte,
    And march’d fromm oute the dore. 260

  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, 265
    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, 270
  Alle cladd ynne homelie russett weedes,
    Of godlie monkysh plyghte: 

  Ynne diffraunt partes a godlie psaume
    Moste sweetlie theye dydd chaunt;
  Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles came, 275
    Who tun’d the strunge bataunt.

  Thenne fyve-and-twentye archers came;
    Echone the bowe dydd bende,
  From rescue of kynge HENRIES friends
    Syr CHARLES forr to defend. 280

  Bolde as a lyon came Syr CHARLES,
    Drawne onne a clothe-layde sledde,
  Bye two blacke stedes ynne trappynges white,
    Wyth plumes uponne theyre hedde: 

  Behynde hym fyve-and-twentye moe 285
    Of archers stronge and stoute,
  Wyth bended bowe echone ynne hande,
    Marched ynne goodlie route: 

  Seincte JAMESES Freers marched next,
    Echone hys parte dydd chaunt; 290
  Behynde theyre backs syx mynstrelles came,
    Who tun’d the strunge bataunt: 

  Thenne came the maior and eldermenne,
    Ynne clothe of scarlett deck’t;
  And theyre attendyng menne echone, 295
    Lyke Easterne princes trickt: 

  And after them, a multitude
    Of citizenns dydd thronge;
  The wyndowes were alle fulle of heddes,
    As hee dydd passe alonge. 300

  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 mynsterr wyndowe sat 305
    The kynge ynne myckle state,
  To see CHARLES BAWDIN goe alonge
    To hys most welcom fate.