And many a knight that solde his death full deere.
65.
Not worthy Hector, worthyest of them all,
Her hope, her ioy, his force is now for nought:
O Troy, Troy,[1554] there is no boote but bale,
The hugie horse within thy walls is brought:
Thy turrets fall, thy knights, that whilome fought
In armes amid the field, are slayne in bed,
Thy gods defylde, and all thy honour dead.
66.