No More Learning

I amme a Dane; botte yette a friende to thee. 1215

Thys damoyselle I founde wythynne a woode,
Strevynge fulle harde anenste a burled swayne;
I sente hym myrynge ynne mie compheeres blodde,
Celmonde hys name, chief of thie warrynge trayne.
Yis damoiselle foughte to be here agayne; 1220
The whyche, albeytte foemen, wee dydd wylle;
So here wee broughte her wythe you to remayne.

COERNIKE.

Yee nobylle Danes! wythe goulde I wyll you fylle.

AELLA.

Birtha, mie lyfe! mie love! oh! she ys fayre.
Whatte faultes coulde Birtha have, whatte faultes could AElla feare?

BIRTHA.

Amm I yenne thyne? I cannotte blame thie feere.
Botte doe reste mee uponne mie AElla's breaste;
I wylle to thee bewryen the woefulle gare.
Celmonde dyd comme to mee at tyme of reste,
Wordeynge for mee to flie, att your requeste, 1230
To Watchette towne, where you deceasynge laie;
I wyth hym fledde; thro' a murke wode we preste,
Where hee foule love unto mie eares dyd saie;
The Danes--

AELLA.

Oh! I die contente. -- [_dieth_.

BIRTHA.

Oh! ys mie AElla dedde?
O! I will make hys grave mie vyrgyn spousal bedde. 1235
[Birtha _feyncteth_.

COERNYKE.

Whatt? AElla deadde! & Birtha dyynge toe!
Soe falles the fayrest flourettes of the playne.