The dougheti Dogglas on a stede55
He rode all his men beforne;[123]
His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede;[124]
A bolder barne[125] was never born.
Tell me 'what' men ye ar, he says,[126]
Or whos men that ye be:60
Who gave youe leave to hunte in this
Chyviat chays in the spyt of me?
The first mane that ever him an answear mayd,
Yt was the good lord Persè:
We wyll not tell the 'what' men we ar, he says,[127]65
Nor whos men that we be;
But we wyll hount hear in this chays
In the spyte of thyne, and of the.
The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat
We have kyld, and cast[128] to carry them a-way.70
Be my troth, sayd the doughtè Dogglas agayn,[129]
Ther-for the ton[130] of us shall de this day.
Then sayd the doughtè Doglas
Unto the lord Persè:
To kyll all thes giltless men,75
A-las! it wear great pittè.
But, Persè, thowe art a lord of lande,
I am a yerle[131] callyd within my contre;
Let all our men uppone a parti[132] stande;
And do the battell off the and of me.80
Nowe Cristes cors[133] on his crowne,[134] sayd the lord Persè.[135]
Who-soever ther-to says nay.
Be my troth, doughtè Doglas, he says,
Thow shalt never se that day;
Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France,85
Nor for no man of a woman born,
But and[136] fortune be my chance,
I dar met him on man for on.[137][138]
Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde,
Ric. Wytharynton[139] was his nam;90
It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde, he says,
To kyng Herry the fourth for sham.
I wat[140] youe byn great lordes twaw,[141]
I am a poor squyar of lande;
I wyll never se my captayne fyght on a fylde,95
And stande my-selffe, and looke on,
But whyll I may my weppone welde,
I wyll not 'fayl' both harte and hande.