Bot þaȝ my hede falle on þe stoneȝ,
I con not hit restore. 215
Bot busk, burne, bi þi fayth! and bryng me to þe poynt.
Dele to me my destiné, and do hit out of honde,
For I schal stonde þe a strok, and start no more
Til þyn ax haue me hitte: haf here my trawþe.'
'Haf at þe þenne!' quod þat oþer, and heueȝ hit alofte, 220
And wayteȝ as wroþely as he wode were.
He mynteȝ at hym maȝtyly, bot not þe mon ryueȝ,
Withhelde heterly h<i>s honde, er hit hurt myȝt.