‘Hold upp thy head, Jamye,’ the Erle sayd,
‘And never let thy hart fayle thee;
He did it but to prove thee with,
And see how thow wo’ld take with death trulye.’
XLVIII
When they had sayl’d other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile upon the sea,
Lord Percye called to him, himselfe,
Sayd, ‘Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee?’
XLIX
‘Looke that your brydle be wight[1136], my lord,
That you may goe as a shipp at sea;
Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,
That you may pricke her while she’le awaye.’
L
‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,
‘That thou needest to ffloutè mee?
For I was counted a horsseman good
Before that ever I met with thee.
LI
‘A ffalsè Hector hath my horsse,
And ever an evill death may hee dye!
And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres
And all the geere belongs to mee.’