Now our decree, as King of Britain, hear:
We do command Earl Damas to appear
No more upon our shores, or any isles
Of farthest Britain in its many miles.
One week be his, no more! then will we come,
Even with an iron host, to seal his doom:
If he be not departed overseas,
With all his men and all his outlawries,
From his own towers, around which sea-birds clang,
Alive and naked shall he starve and hang