KYNGE.
Hughe, I beethyncke, thie rede[172] ys notte to blame.
Botte thou maiest fynde fulle store of marckes yn Kente.
HUGHE.
Mie noble loverde, Godwynn ys the same
He sweeres he wylle notte swelle the Normans ent. 165
KYNGE.
Ah traytoure! botte mie rage I wylle commaunde.
Thou arte a Normanne, Hughe, a straunger to the launde.
Thou kenneste howe these Englysche erle doe bere
Such stedness[173] in the yll and evylle thynge,
Botte atte the goode theie hover yn denwere[174], 170
Onknowlachynge[175] gif thereunto to clynge.
HUGHE.
Onwordie syke a marvelle[176] of a kynge!
O Edwarde, thou deservest purer leege[177];
To thee heie[178] shulden al theire mancas brynge;
Thie nodde should save menne, and thie glomb[179] forslege[180]. 175
I amme no curriedowe[181], I lacke no wite [182],
I speke whatte bee the trouthe, and whatte all see is ryghte.