Or thus defraud the wars of both our bloods?
Whereto do we reserve ourselves, or why
Be we not sought ere this amongst the dead?
So many thousands murther’d in our cause,
Must we survive, and neither win nor lose?
The fates, that will not smile on either side
May frown on both. So saying, forth he flings,
And desperate runs on point of Arthur’s sword!
(A sword, alas, prepar’d for no such use),
Whereon engor’d he glides till, near approach’d,