Good Master Richard, y' have young eyes.

Read me, I pray, this libel." Dick Shelton took the paper in his hand and read it aloud.

It contained some lines of very rugged doggerel, hardly even rhyming, written in a gross character, and most uncouthly spelt.

With the spelling somewhat bettered, this is how they ran: "I had four blak arrows under my belt, Four for the greefs that I have felt, Four for the nomber of ill menne That have opressid me now and then.
One is gone; one is wele sped; Old Apulyaird is ded.
One is for Maister Bennet Hatch, That burned Grimstone, walls and thatch.
One for Sir Oliver Oates, That cut Sir Harry Shelton's throat.
Sir Daniel, ye shull have the fourt; We shall think it fair sport.
Ye shull each have your own part, A blak arrow in each blak heart.
Get ye to your knees for to pray: Ye are ded theeves, by yea and nay! "JON AMEND-ALL of the Green Wood, And his jolly fellaweship.
"Item, we have mo arrowes and goode hempen cord for otheres of your following." "Now, well-a-day for charity and the Christian graces!" cried Sir Oliver, lamentably.

"Sirs, this is an ill world, and groweth daily worse.