CELMONDE.

    Hee lyves; & stylle maie use
    The behylte[108] blessynges of a future yeare.

  BIRTHA.

  Whatte heavie tydynge thenne have I to feare? 940
  Of whatte mischaunce dydste thou so latelie saie?

  CELMONDE.

    For heavie tydynges swythyn nowe prepare. 
    AElla sore wounded ys, yn bykerous fraie;
    In Wedecester’s wallid toune he lyes.

  BIRTHA.

  O mie agroted breast!

  CELMONDE: 

Wythoute your syghte, he dyes. 945

  BIRTHA.

    Wylle Birtha’s presence ethe herr AElla’s payne? 
    I flie; newe wynges doe from mie schoulderrs sprynge.

  CELMONDE.

    Mie stede wydhoute wylle deftelie beere us twayne.

  BIRTHA.

    Oh!  I wyll flie as wynde, & no waie lynge;
    Sweftlie caparisons for rydynge brynge; 950
    I have a mynde wynged wythe the levyn ploome. 
    O AElla, AElla! dydste thou kenne the stynge,
    The whyche doeth canker ynne mie hartys roome,
    Thou wouldste see playne thieselfe the gare to bee;
  Aryse, uponne thie love, & flie to meeten mee. 955

  CELMONDE.

    The stede, on whyche I came, ys swefte as ayre;
    Mie servytoures doe wayte mee nere the wode;
    Swythynne wythe mee unto the place repayre;
    To AElla I wylle gev you conducte goode. 
    Youre eyne, alyche a baulme, wylle staunche hys bloode, 960
    Holpe oppe hys woundes, & yev hys harte alle cheere;
    Uponne your eyne he holdes hys lyvelyhode[109];
    You doe hys spryte, & alle hys pleasaunce bere. 
    Comme, lette’s awaie, albeytte ytte ys moke,
  Yette love wille bee a tore to tourne to feere nyghtes smoke. 965

  BIRTHA.

    Albeytte unwears dyd the welkynn rende,
    Reyne, alyche fallynge ryvers, dyd ferse bee,
    Erthe wythe the ayre enchased dyd contende,
    Everychone breathe of wynde wythe plagues dyd flee,
    Yette I to AElla’s eyne eftsoones woulde flee; 970
    Albeytte hawethornes dyd mie fleshe enseme,
    Owlettes, wythe scrychynge, shakeynge everyche tree,
    And water-neders wrygglynge yn eche streme,
    Yette woulde I flie, ne under coverte staie,
  Botte seke mie AElla owte; brave Celmonde, leade the waie. 975

  A WODE.

  HURRA, DANES.

  HURRA.

    Heere ynn yis forreste lette us watche for pree,
    Bewreckeynge on oure foemenne oure ylle warre;
    Whatteverre schalle be Englysch wee wylle slea,
    Spreddynge our ugsomme rennome to afarre. 
    Ye Dacyanne menne, gyff Dacyanne menne yee are, 980
    Lette nete botte blodde suffycyle