For you to ryse in such a fray."
"Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,
Thou never learnedest this of mee:
When thou wert yong and tender of age,
Why did I make soe much of thee?"
"But, father, I will wend with you,
Unarm'd and naked will I bee;
And he that strikes against the crowne,
Ever an ill death may he dee."
Then rose that reverend gentleman,