MAGNUS. Ælla & thee togyder synke toe helle! Bee youre names blasted from the rolle of dome! 535 I feere noe Ælla, thatte thou kennest welle. Unlydgefulle traytoure, wylt thou nowe rebelle? 'Tys knowen, thatte yie menn bee lyncked to myne, Bothe sente, as troopes of wolves, to sletre felle; Botte nowe thou lackest hem to be all yyne. 540 Nowe, bie the goddes yatte reule the Dacyanne state, Speacke thou yn rage once moe, I wyll thee dysregate. HURRA. I pryze thie threattes joste as I doe thie banes, The sede of malyce and recendize al. Thou arte a steyne unto the name of Danes; 545 Thou alleyne to thie tyngue for proofe canst calle. Thou beest a worme so groffile and so smal, I wythe thie bloude woulde scorne to foul mie sworde, Botte wythe thie weaponnes woulde upon thee falle, Alyche thie owne feare, slea thee wythe a worde. 550 I Hurra amme miesel, & aie wylle bee, As greate yn valourous actes, & yn commande as thee. MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMYE & MESSENGER. MESSENGERE. Blynne your contekions[81], chiefs; for, as I stode Uponne mie watche, I spiede an armie commynge, Notte lyche ann handfulle of a fremded[82] foe, 555 Botte blacke wythe armoure, movynge ugsomlie, Lyche a blacke fulle cloude, thatte dothe goe alonge To droppe yn hayle, & hele the thonder storme. MAGNUS. Ar there meynte of them? MESSENGERR. Thycke as the ante-flyes ynne a sommer's none, 560 Seemynge as tho' theie stynge as persante too. HURRA. Whatte matters thatte? lettes sette oure warr-arraie. Goe, sounde the beme, lette champyons prepare; Ne doubtynge, we wylle stynghe as faste as heie. Whatte? doest forgard[83] thie blodde? ys ytte for feare? 565 Wouldest thou gayne the towne, & castle-stere, And yette ne byker wythe the soldyer guarde? Go, hyde thee ynn mie tente annethe the lere; I of thie boddie wylle keepe watche & warde. MAGNUS. Oure goddes of Denmarke know mie harte ys goode. 570 HURRA. For nete uppon the erthe, botte to be choughens foode. MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMIE, SECONDE MESSENGERRE. SECONDE MESSENGERRE. As from mie towre I kende the commynge foe, I spied the crossed shielde, & bloddie swerde, The furyous Ælla's banner; wythynne kenne The armie ys. Dysorder throughe oure hoaste 575 Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of Ælla's name; Styr, styr, mie lordes! MAGNUS. What? Ælla? & soe neare? Thenne Denmarques roiend; oh mie rysynge feare! HURRA.