For-why I found my wounde al dreye.
Than took I with myn hondis tweye
1745
The arowe, and ful fast out it plight,
And in the pulling sore I sight.
So at the last the shaft of tree
I drough out, with the fethers three.
But yet the hoked heed, y-wis,
1750
The whiche Beautee callid is,