CELMONDE.

    Yee hyndes, awaie! orre bie thys swerde yee dies.

  HURRA.

    Thie wordes wylle ne mie hartis sete affere.

  BIRTHA.

    Save mee, oh! save mee from thys royner heere! 1070

  HURRA.

    Stonde thou bie mee; nowe saie thie name & londe;
    Or swythyne schall mie swerde thie boddie tare.

  CELMONDE.

    Bothe I wylle shewe thee bie mie brondeous[116] honde.

  HURRA.

    Besette hym rounde, yee Danes.

  CELMONDE.

    Comme onne, and see
  Gyff mie strynge anlace maie bewryen whatte I bee. 1075
    [Fyghte al anenste Celmonde, meynte Danes he fleath,
       and faleth to Hurra.

CELMONDE.

Oh!  I forslagen[117] be! ye Danes, now kenne,
I amme yatte Celmonde, seconde yn the fyghte,
Who dydd, atte Watchette, so forslege youre menne;
I fele myne eyne to swymme yn aeterne nyghte;—­
To her be kynde. [Dieth.

HURRA.

                  Thenne felle a wordhie knyghte. 1080
    Saie, who bee you?

BIRTHA.

I am greate AElla’s wyfe.

HURRA.

Ah

  BIRTHA.

    Gyff anenste hym you harboure soule despyte,
    Nowe wythe the lethal anlace take mie lyfe,
    Mie thankes I ever onne you wylle bestowe,
  From ewbryce[118] you mee pyghte, the worste of mortal woe. 1085

  HURRA.

    I wylle; ytte scalle bee foe:  yee Dacyans, heere. 
    Thys AElla havethe been oure foe for aie. 
    Thorrowe the battelle he dyd brondeous teare,
    Beyng the lyfe and head of everych fraie;
    From everych Dacyanne power he won the daie, 1090
    Forslagen Magnus, all oure schippes ybrente;
    Bie hys felle arme wee now are made to straie;
    The speere of Dacya he ynne pieces shente;
    Whanne hantoned barckes unto our londe dyd comme,
  AElla the gare dheie sed, & wysched hym bytter dome. 1095

  BIRTHA.

    Mercie!

  HURRA.

    Bee stylle. 
    Botte yette he ys a foemanne goode and fayre;
    Whanne wee are spente, he foundethe the forloyne;
    The captyves chayne he tosseth ynne the ayre,
    Cheered the wounded bothe wythe bredde & wyne;
    Has hee notte untoe somme of you bynn dygne? 1100
    You would have smethd onne Wedecestrian fielde,
    Botte hee behylte the flughorne for to cleyne,
    Throwynge onne hys wyde backe, hys wyder spreddynge shielde. 
    Whanne you, as caytysned, yn fielde dyd bee,
  Hee oathed you to bee stylle, & strayte dydd sette you free. 1105