By one that counsel’d mee away to flee:
But I his counsell rashly did forsake,
And vnto him in furie thus I spake:
89.
“Curst be thy coward thoughts that thinke on flight,
And curst those traytors that are fled away:
I am resolu’d in this daie’s dreadfull fight,
To lose my life, or win a glorious day:
Flie those that will, for I am bent to stay:”
This said, my plum’d deckt helme I downe did close,