"Clerkes, knyhtes, barouns," he sayde,
"Y charge ou by oure sware,
That ӡe to Engelonde be trewe.
Y deӡe, y ne may lyven na more;
Helpeth mi sone ant crouneth him newe,
For he is nest to buen y-core.
"Ich biquethe myn herte aryht,
That hit be write at mi devys,
Over the see that hue be diht,
With fourscore knyhtes al of prys,
In werre that buen war ant wys,
Aӡeyn the hethene for te fyhte,
To wynne the croiz that lowe lys;
Myself ycholde ӡef that y myhte."
Kyng of Fraunce, thou hevedest sunne,
That thou the counsail woldest fonde,
To latte the wille of kyng Edward
To wende to the holy londe:
That oure kyng hede take on honde
Al Engelond to ӡeme ant wysse,

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