Which only thought our Realme and vs t’haue spoyl’d,
Wee came to see (of all our field the worst)
Our souldiers slayne. O cruell Cæsar curst
(Quoth wee) should all these giltlesse Britaynes die[769]
[For thine ambition? fie, O Cæsar, fie,]
That durst not[770] byde but like a dastard flie.
16.
But then to see them in aray to lie,
And for to see them wounded all before,
Not one but in his place his life did trye,