How found þou þat filthe in þi fals wille,
Of so dogget a dede in þi derf hert,
So worshipfull a wegh, & worthiest of blode,
Line 10380
Þat is comyn of a kyng, the clennest on lyue,
To tegh as a traytor, and traile vpon þe erthe,
And hurle at þi horse taile in hethyng of vs?
Leue me now lelly all þi lyfe after,
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Neuer kepis þu þi corse out of cold angur." [folio 159b]
Þen þe kyng at hym caupit with a kene speire,
Hurt hym full hidusly, harmyt hym sore,
Þat bisi was þe buerne to bide in his sadill,
Line 10388
Or olofte for to lenge in his large sete.
Þen he swange out a sword swicly with þat,
Hurlit thurgh þe helme, hade hym to ground:
With a wound þat was wikkid walt of his horse,
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Half lyueles on the laund light vnder fote.
Þen þe troiens with tene tokyn þe body
Of Troiell, þe tru knight, & to toun led.
Þe Mirmydons þaire maistur, masit on þe grene,
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Lyfton vp lyuely, led hym away,
Horsit hym in haste, hade hym a lofte.
His strenkith restoris stithly agayn,
And he fore to þe fight with a fell wyll,
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Machit hym monly to Menon þe kyng
And he keppit hym full kenly: þai caupit to|gedur.
Menon was myghtier, & met on hym so,
Þat he greuit þe greke, and geue hym þe worse.
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Þen þe batels come bigli vppon bothe haluys,
Sundrit hom sone, þai soghtyn in twyn.
Þe day wex dym, droupit þe sun,
Þe lyght wex lasse, and þe laik endit:
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Soghtyn to the sité, & sum to þe tentis,
And logget þe long nyght, layd hom to rest.
Then seuyn daies somyn, sothly þai met,
