"
"Thou art ever in my beard," said the abb-ot,
"By God and Saint Rich-ard!"
With that came in a fat-headed monk,
The high cellarer;
"He is dead or hang-ed," said the monk,
"By him that bought me dear,
And we shall have to spend in this place
Four hundred pound by year."
The abbot and the high cellarer,
Stert-e forth full bold.
The high justice of Englond
The abb-ot there did hold;
The high just-ice and many mo
Had take into their hond
Wholly all the knight-es debt,
To put that knight to wrong.
They deemed the knight wonder sore,
The abb-ot and his meyn-e:
"But he come this ilk-e day
Disherited shall he be."
"He will not come yet," said the just-ice,
"I dare well undertake."
But in sorrow-e tim-e for them all
The knight came to the gate.
Then bespake that gentle knight
Unto his meyn-e,
"Now put on your simple weeds
That ye brought from the sea."
And cam-e to the gates anone,
The porter was ready himself,
And welcom-ed them every one.
"Welc-ome, sir knyght," said the port-er,
"My lord to meat is he,
And so is many a gentle man,
For the love of thee.
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