There they faught sore togedere
Two mylë way and well more;
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountnaunce of an owre.
169
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn,
‘And by my true lewtë,
Thou art one of the best sworde-men
That euer yit sawe I [me.]
170