For when thy sword was in my target fast,
I made thee flye and quickely leaue thy hold,
Thou neuer wast in all thy life so gast,
Nor durst agayne bee euer halfe so bold:
I made a number Romaynes hartes full cold:
Fight, fight, you noble Britaynes now (quoth I)
Wee neuer all will vnreuenged die.
27.
What Cæsar though thy prayse and mine bee od,
(Perdy the stories[727] scarce remember mee)