But you touched him , Master Shelton ; he has stolen your quarrel , may he never have good I grudge him less ! '' `` Nay , but what made he by the church ? '' asked Sir Oliver . `` I am shrewdly afeared there has been mischief here . Clipsby , good fellow , get ye down from your horse , and search thoroughly among the yews . '' Clipsby was gone but a little while ere he returned carrying a paper . `` This writing was pinned to the church door , '' he said , handing it to the parson . `` I found naught else , sir parson . '' `` Now , by the power of Mother Church , '' cried Sir Oliver , `` but this runs hard on sacrilege ! For the king 's good pleasure , or the lord of the manor -- well ! But that every run-the-hedge in a green jerkin should fasten papers to the chancel door -- nay , it runs hard on sacrilege , hard ; and men have burned for matters of less weight . But what have we here ? The light falls apace . 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 XXXXX 's throat .
Apulyaird Clipsby Grimstone Hatch Shelton greefs menne run-the-hedge spelt thatch