When Achilles herde this tydandis, [folio 172b]
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Out of his bed sclong he his handes,
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As he that was euel payde
Off these tythandis that him were sayde;
His woundes bledde for-sothe & brake.
With so gret herte Achilles spak
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To alle that stode aboute his bed,
And seyde: "that this was euel y-red
To make among hem suche a chaunge"—
'Now hope I that alle thei caunge!
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¶ For of vs alle—so mot I the!—
Was ther non so wys as he,
Ne non that coude so lede oure ost
With witt and skylle, with-outen bost.
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But I wol not be occasioun
To vndo ȝoure eleccioun;
Sithe he is chosen, I holde it gode.'
And her eleccioun thus so stode,
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And he belefft here Emperour
As he was chosen with honour.
THe two Monthes are past,
Bothe the parties dight hem fast,
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Bothe the Troyens and the Grues;
Her day is comen out of her trues.
Kyng Priamus wolde be venged fayn
His sones deth that was sclayn,
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He seide: "he wolde him go
To fight that day to venge his fo."
¶ His batayles alle him-self ordeynes,
With his right hond he hem ensaynes
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And ȝeuet hem leue forth to wende;
He prayes hem alle to venge her frende,
Her Prince that was & gouernour,
That som tyme was ther sauyour.
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