To make them pay the price of our distresse wee vowde,
Before wee would possession got, of Pontoise loze:
In euery streete wee met the strength of all our foes,
And made them passe by deadly dint away,
Which ventured first our English mates to slay.
79.
‘Why now my frends, for England fighte,’ I cryde:
‘Yf euer English hearts your noble breasts posseste,
I promise you to make them flinche, yf I may byde:
Mates follow me.’ Amongst my foes I rusht before the rest: