Hee lyves; & stylle maie use
The behylte[108] blessynges of a future yeare.
BIRTHA.
Whatte heavie tydynge thenne have I to feare? 940
Of whatte mischaunce dydste thou so latelie saie?
CELMONDE.
For heavie tydynges swythyn nowe prepare.
Ælla sore wounded ys, yn bykerous fraie;
In Wedecester's wallid toune he lyes.
BIRTHA.
O mie agroted breast!
CELMONDE:
Wythoute your syghte, he dyes. 945