58v]    5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 59r] 60 65

Sitteth alle stille ant herkneth to me! The Kyng of Alemaigne, bi mi leaute, Thritti thousent pound askede he Forte make the pees in the countre,      Ant so he dude more.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard,      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kyng, He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, Haveth he nout of Walingford o ferlyng; Let him habbe ase he brew, bale to dryng,      Maugre Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard,      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, He saisede the mulne for a castel, With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel. He wende that the sayles were mangonel      To helpe Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard,      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! The Kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, Makede him a castel of a mulnepost, Wende with is prude ant is muchele bost, Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost      To store Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! By God that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne That lette passen over see the Erl of Warynne; He hath robbed Engelond, the mores ant the fenne,      The gold ant the selver, ant yboren henne      For love of Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn, Shulde he never more come to is yn, Ne with sheld, ne with spere ne with other gyn,      To help of Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard,      Tricchen shalt thous nevermore! Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys top, Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot, Al he shulde quite here tuelfmoneth scot; Shulde he nevermore with his fot pot      To helpe Wyndesore.              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore! Be the luef, be the loht, Sire Edward, Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward; Shalt thou nevermore breke foreward!      Ant that reweth sore! Edward, thou dudest ase a shreward,      Forsoke thyn emes lore!              Richard,      Thah thou be ever trichard,      Tricchen shalt thou nevermore!

Sit very still and listen to me! The King of Germany, on my honor, Thirty thousand pounds he asked To make the peace in the country,      And thus he did more.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! Richard of Germany, while he was king, He spent all his treasure upon whoring, He has no more than a farthing from Wallingford; Let him have as he brews, evil to drink,      In spite of Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! The King of Germany thought to do very well, He seized the windmill for a castle, With their sharp swords they secured their position. They thought that the windsails were catapults      To help Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! The King of Germany gathered his host, Made him a castle of a windmill post, Marched with his pride and his great boast, Brought from Germany many wretched souls      To supply Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! By God that’s above us, he did much sin To allow the Earl of Warenne to pass over the sea; He has robbed England, the moors and the fen, The gold and the silver, and borne it away      For love of Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! Sir Simon de Montfort has sworn by his chin, That were he now to have here Sir Earl of Warenne, He should never again come to his lodging, With shield nor with spear nor with more craft,      Come to help Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! Sir Simon de Montfort has sworn by his head, That were he now to have here Sir Hugh of Bigot, He would entirely repay their twelvemonth’s royal tax;      He would never again kick with his foot      To help Windsor.              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray! Be you loved, be you hated, Sir Edward, You’ll ride spurless on your poor horse All the straight way toward Dover; You’ll never again break a vowed contract!      May you bitterly regret that! Edward, you acted like a scoundrel,      Abandoned your uncle’s teaching!              Richard,      Though you’re forever a traitor,      You’ll never more betray!

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