They thought nothynge for to fle,
But styfly for to stonde.
There they fought sore togyder,
Two myle way and more,[154]
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountenaunce of an houre.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,
And be my trewe lewtè,
Thou art one of the best swerdemen,
That ever yet sawe I me.