HAROLDE.
True, so wee sal doe best to lyncke the chayne,
And alle attenes[134] the spreddynge kyngedomme bynde.
No crouched[135] champyone wythe an harte moe feygne 100
Dyd yssue owte the hallie[136] swerde to fynde,
Than I nowe strev to ryd mie londe of peyne.
Goddwyn, what thanckes owre laboures wylle enhepe!
I'lle ryse mie friendes unto the bloddie pleyne;
I'lle wake the honnoure thatte ys now aslepe. 115
When wylle the chiefes mete atte thie feastive halle,
That I wythe voice alowde maie there upon 'em calle?
GODDWYN.
Next eve, mie sonne.
HAROLDE.
Nowe, Englonde, ys the tyme,
Whan thee or thie felle foemens cause moste die.
Thie geason[137] wronges bee reyne[138] ynto theyre pryme; 120
Nowe wylle thie sonnes unto thie succoure flie.
Alyche a storm egederinge[139] yn the skie,
Tys fulle ande brasteth[140] on the chaper[141] grounde;
Sycke shalle mie fhuirye on the Normans flie,
And alle theyre mittee[142] menne be sleene[143] arounde. 125
Nowe, nowe, wylle Harolde or oppressionne falle,
Ne moe the Englyshmenne yn vayne for hele[144] shal calle.
KYNGE EDWARDE AND HYS QUEENE.
QUEENE.
Botte, loverde[145], whie so manie Normannes here?
Mee thynckethe wee bee notte yn Englyshe londe.
These browded[146] straungers alwaie doe appere, 130
Theie parte yor trone[147], and sete at your ryghte honde.