ÆLLA.
O! tys for thee, for thee alleyne I fele;
Yett I muste bee mieselfe; with valoures gear
I'lle dyghte mie hearte, and notte mie lymbes yn stele, 300
And shake the bloddie swerde and steyned spere.
BIRTHA.
Can Ælla from hys breaste hys Birtha teare?
Is shee so rou and ugsomme[55] to hys fyghte?
Entrykeynge wyght! ys leathall warre so deare?
Thou pryzest mee belowe the joies of fyghte. 305
Thou scalte notte leave mee, albeytte the erthe
Hong pendaunte bie thie swerde, and craved for thy morthe.