The Duke of pauye wounded is
With a swerde thurgh the body ywis:
Of deth he dredde him sore,
To eskape he weneth nomore.'
WHANNE the Emperour herde tho [Caius MS. 107 page 73]
Line 2305
What the Erle Tirry tolde him to,
Full sory he is, and wrothe therfore:
All-moste he hath his witte forlore.
Swore he hath a full grete othe:
By god all-mighti and forsothe,
Line 2310
Neuer glad shal bee he,
For that Citee take bee,
And till the traitours bee slawe,
In fire brende, or all quykke drawe.
His trompettis he bade blowe anone,
Line 2315
And his hooste to harneys echoone.
. . . . .
. . . . .
The feldes sone they haue thurgh-goon:
Downes ne valeis they spared noon,
Line 2320
Till they come before the Citee.
Gonrande than forthe yede he
With .v. hundred of orped knyghtes,
That hardy were and well doyng in fightes.
All that thoo were in the Citee,
Line 2325
Vpon the Almaignes gan beholde and see:
They sawe the Contrees couered and the felde
With white hauberkes, speres, and shelde.
The duke him come forth with that,
Well armed vpon a good stede he sat:
Line 2330
'Guy,' he seide, 'what shall we doo?
Yf we goo to smyte theim too?'
. . . . .
. . . . .
'Sir,' seide Guy foot hote,
Line 2335
'Full well thou shalt doo, y it wote.
