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.