Of men of armes bold þe numbre þei ame,
A thousand & tuo hundred told of Cristen men bi name.
[La tere fu lour wayne par poer saunz desceit, Ne fust la meschaunce, qe les encombrayt, Gallice.] þe lond þei suld haf wonne þorgh powere þat þei had,
Bot if treson had gonne, & þorgh disceit bien lad.
Mykelle was þe drede þorgh out paemie,
þat Cristendam at nede mot haf suilk cheualrie.
þe Soudan was in wehere þe Cristen had suilk oste,
Sir Edwarde's powere ouer alle he dred moste,
þerfor day & nyght he was in grete studie,
On what manere he myght Edward slo þorgh spie.
THER es a stede of wynne, þei calle it haut assise, [De haut assise, [Sic.] locus nobilitátis inter Sara|cenos, ubi custodiun|tur pueri cum gaudio, nec metuunt mortem, sed æstimant semper vi|vere.]
Men norise childre þer inne, on merveilous wise,
Euer in joy & blisse, in alle þat þei may do,
þei wene it salle neuer misse, ne oþer dede com to.
þei faire right als dos foles, þei do as men þam say,
þe childir of þo scoles, þei þink to lyue ay.
þe Soudan of þo in cloþes of gold him clad,
Tille Edward suld he go, & do as þe Soudan bad.
A letter þis fole tok, bad him for nessh or hard
þeron suld no man loke, bot only Sir Edward.
Envenomed knyfe he bare also priuely,
þat non þer of were ware, who so stod him by.
Bi þam self alone in chambir suld þei be,
So bad þe Soudone schewe him his priuete.
