For sothe, ase I yow seye. [635]
Thys fend wase ferly to fyght,
Rochense, seythe the boke, he hyght,
Ther wase a dredfull̴ fraye.
To the chyld than) gan he smyght:
‘A theff, yeld the asttyt, [640]
As fast as thow may!’
‘What,’ seyd Torrent, ‘art thow wood?
God, that Dyed on the Rood,
Geff the evyll̴ happe thys day!’