Dispatch good friende, dispatch my lyfe with speede.”
Wherewith, on blocke he stretcht his necke outright,
And sayd no more, but praying me to smite:
I gaue the stroke which ended al his care,
A blouddie stroke, which did my death prepare.
36.
For I who hopte to haue some great rewarde
For killing of my maister’s father’s foe:
Was hanged strayght, my cause was neuer hearde,
Such was my chance and wel deserued woe: