Thenne Ille doe heaven a servyce. To the skyes The dailie contekes[62] of the londe ascende. 45 The wyddowe, fahdrelesse, & bondemennes cries Acheke[63] the mokie[64] aire & heaven astende[65] On us the rulers doe the folcke depende; Hancelled[66] from erthe these Normanne[67] hyndes shalle bee; Lyche a battently[68] low[69], mie swerde shalle brende[70]; 50 Lyche fallynge softe rayne droppes, I wyll hem[71] slea[72]; Wee wayte too longe; our purpose wylle defayte[73]; Aboune[74] the hyghe empryze[75], & rouze the champyones strayte. GODDWYN. Thie suster-- HAROLDE. Aye, I knowe, she is his queene. Albeytte[76], dyd shee speeke her foemen[77] fayre, 55 I wulde dequace[78] her comlie semlykeene[79], And foulde mie bloddie anlace[80] yn her hayre. GODDWYN. Thye fhuir[81] blyn[82]. HAROLDE. No, bydde the leathal[83] mere[84] Upriste[85] withe hiltrene[86] wyndes & cause unkend[87], Beheste[88] it to be lete[89]; so twylle appeare, 60 Eere Harolde hyde hys name, his contries frende. The gule-steynct[90] brygandyne[91], the adventayle[92], The feerie anlace[92] brede[93] shal make mie gare[94] prevayle. GODDWYN. Harolde, what wuldest doe? HAROLDE. Bethyncke thee whatt. Here liethe Englonde, all her drites [95] unfree, 65 Here liethe Normans coupynge[96] her bie lotte, Caltysnyng[97] everich native plante to gre[98], Whatte woulde I doe? I brondeous[99] wulde hem slee[100]; Tare owte theyre sable harte bie ryghtefulle breme[101]; Theyre deathe a meanes untoe mie lyfe shulde bee, 70 Mie spryte shulde revelle yn theyr harte-blodde streme. Eftsoones I wylle bewryne[102] mie ragefulle ire, And Goddis anlace[103] wielde yn furie dyre. GODDWYN. Whatte wouldest thou wythe the kynge? HAROLDE. Take offe hys crowne; The ruler of somme mynster[104] hym ordeyne; 75 Sette uppe fom dygner[105] than I han pyghte[106] downe; And peace in Englonde shulde be brayd[107] agayne. GODDWYN. No, lette the super-hallie[108] seyncte kynge reygne, Ande somme moe reded[109] rule the untentyff[110] reaulme; Kynge Edwarde, yn hys cortesie, wylle deygne 80 To yielde the spoiles, and alleyne were the heaulme: Botte from mee harte bee everych thoughte of gayne, Not anie of mie kin I wysche him to ordeyne. HAROLDE. Tell me the meenes, and I wylle boute ytte strayte; Bete[111] mee to slea[112] mieself, ytte shalle be done. 85 GODDWYN.