Hearken to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heare; Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren, That ever born y-were.
The tone of them was Adler yonge, 5 The tother was kyng Estmere; They were as bolde men in their deedes As any were, farr and neare.
As they were drinking ale and wine Within kyng Estmeres halle, 10 "When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, A wyfe to gladd us all?"
Then bespake him kyng Estmere, And answered him hartilye: "I knowe not that ladye in any lande, 15 That is 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 queene." 20
Sayes, "Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betweene us two to sende."
Sayes, "You shall ryde yourselfe, brother, 25 Ile beare you companee; Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,[L27] And I feare lest soe shold wee."
Thus they renisht them to ryde On twoe good renisht steedes, 30 And when they came to kyng Adlands halle, Of red golde shone their weedes.
And when they came to kyng Adlands halle, Before the goodlye yate, Ther they found good kyng Adland, 35 Rearing himselfe theratt.
"Nowe Christ thee save, good kyng Adland, Nowe Christ thee save and see:" Sayd, "You be welcome, kyng Estmere, Right hartilye to mee." 40
"You have a daughter," sayd Adler yonge, "Men call her bright and sheene; My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene."
"Yesterdaye was att my dere daughter 45 The king his sonne of Spayn; And then she nicked him of naye; I feare sheele do youe the same."
"The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And 'leeveth on Mahound, 50 And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marrye a heathen hound."
"But grant to me," sayes kyng Estmere, "For my love I you praye, That I may see your daughter dere 55 Before I goe hence awaye."
"Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more Syth my daughter was in halle, She shall come downe once for your sake, To glad my guestès alle." 60
Downe then came that mayden fayre, With ladyes lacede in pall, And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes, To bring her from bowre to hall, And eke as manye gentle squieres, 65 To waite upon them all.
The talents of golde were on her head sette, Hunge lowe downe to her knee; And everye rynge on her small finger Shone of the chrystall free. 70