Scalle wee forslege[119] hys wyfe, because he’s brave? 
    Bicaus hee fyghteth for hys countryes gare? 
    Wylle hee, who havith bynne yis AElla’s slave,
    Robbe hym of whatte percase he holdith deere? 
    Or scalle we menne of mennys sprytes appere, 1110
    Doeynge hym favoure for hys favoure donne,
    Swefte to hys pallace thys damoiselle bere,
    Bewrynne oure case, and to oure waie be gonne? 
    The last you do approve; so lette ytte bee;
  Damoyselle, comme awaie; you safe scalle bee wythe mee. 1115

  BIRTHA.

    Al blessynges maie the seynctes unto yee gyve! 
    Al pleasaunce maie youre longe-straughte livynges bee! 
    AElla, whanne knowynge thatte bie you I lyve,
    Wylle thyncke too smalle a guyfte the londe & sea. 
    O Celmonde!  I maie deftlie rede bie thee, 1120
    Whatte ille betydethe the enfouled kynde;
    Maie ne thie cross-stone[120] of thie cryme bewree! 
    Maie alle menne ken thie valoure, fewe thie mynde! 
    Soldyer! for syke thou arte ynn noble fraie,
  I wylle thie goinges ’tende, & doe thou lede the waie. 1125

  HURRA.

    The mornynge ’gyns alonge the Easte to sheene;
  Darklinge the lyghte doe onne the waters plaie;
    The feynte rodde leme slowe creepeth oere the greene,
    Toe chase the merkyness of nyghte awaie;
    Swifte flies the howers thatte wylle brynge oute the daie; 1130
    The softe dewe falleth onne the greeynge grasse;
    The shepster mayden, dyghtynge her arraie,
    Scante[121] sees her vysage yn the wavie glasse;
    Bie the fulle daylieghte wee scalle AElla see. 
  Or Brystowes wallyd towne; damoyselle, followe mee. 1135

  AT BRYSTOWE.

  AELLA AND SERVITOURES.

  AELLA.

    ’Tys nowe fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte
    To have been heere; mie stede han notte mie love;
    Thys ys mie pallace; lette mie hyndes alyghte,
    Whylste I goe oppe, & wake mie slepeynge dove. 
    Staie here, mie hyndlettes; I shal goe above. 1140
    Nowe.  Birtha, wyll thie loke enhele mie spryte,
    Thie smyles unto mie woundes a baulme wylle prove;
    Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee sette aryghte. 
    Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle doore,
  Yatte I on Birtha’s breste maie thynke of warre ne more. 1145

  AELLA, EGWINA.

  EGWINA.

    Oh AElla!

  AELLA.

        Ah! that semmlykeene to mee
    Speeketh a legendary tale of woe.

  EGWINA.

    Birtha is—­

  AELLA.

    Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?

EGWINA.

Gone—­

AELLA.

Gone! ye goddes!