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primus miles.

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.

secundus miles.

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.

Tunc dicat Nathan propheta.

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.