The squier fell: of him thar was na mar.
His men folowid on Wallace wondyr sar:
The press was thik, and cummerit thaim full fast.
Wallace was spedy, and gretlye als agast;230
The bludy knyff bar drawin in his hand,
He sparyt nane that he befor him fand.
He knew the hous his eyme had lugit in;
Thedir he fled, for owt he mycht nocht wyn.
The gude wyff than within the closs saw he;235
And, “Help,” he cryit, “for him that deit on tre;