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 I bid you make good cheer to be So fair a queen as all men see, And hold us for your lieges free ; By Peter's soul that hath the key, Ye have good hap of it.

I would that he were hanged and dead Who hath no joy to see your head With gold about it, barred on red ; I hold him as a sow of lead That is so scant of wit.

O king, I have a word to thee; The child that is in Bersabe Shall wither without light to see ; This word is come of God by me For sin that ye have done. Because herein ye did not right, To take the fair one lamb to smite That was of Urias the knight ; Ye wist he had but one. Full many sheep I wot ye had, And many women, when ye bade To do your will and keep you glad ; And a good crown about your head With gold to show thereon.