So sore, that tombling backe, he downe did slyde
Ouer his horses taile aboue a stryde;
Whence litle lust he had to rise againe.
Which Cambell seeing, much the same enuyde,
And ran at him with all his might and maine;
But shortly was likewise seene lying on the plaine.
Whereat full inly wroth was Triamond xlv
And cast t’auenge[83] the shame doen to his freend:
But by his friend himselfe eke soone he fond,
In no lesse neede of helpe, then him he weend.