He breath’d his sword, and rested him till day,
Which when he spyde vpon the earth t’encroch,
Through the dead carcases he made his way,
Mongst which he found a sword of better say,
With which he forth went into th’open light:
Where all the rest for him did readie stay,
And fierce assayling him, with all their might
Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.
How many flyes in whottest sommers day xlviii
Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare,