Kynge and Syr Hughe
Kynge
Mie friende, Syr Hughe, whatte tydynges brynges thee here?
Hughe
There is no mancas yn mie loverdes ente[163];
The hus dyspense[164] unpaied doe appere;
The laste receivure[165] ys eftesoones[166] dispente[167].
Kynge
Thenne guylde the Weste.
Hughe
Mie loverde, I dyd speke
Untoe the mitte[168] Erle Harolde of the thynge;
He raysed hys honde, and smoke me onne the cheke,
Saieynge, go beare thatte message to the kynge.
Kynge
Arace[169] hym of hys powere; bie Goddis worde,
Ne moe thatte Harolde shall ywield the erlies swerde.
Hughe
Atte seeson fytte, mie loverde, lette itt bee;
Botte nowe the folcke doe soe enalse[170] hys name,
Inne strevvynge to slea hymme, ourselves wee slea;
Syke ys the doughtyness[171] of hys grete fame.
Kynge
Hughe, I beethyncke, thie rede[172] ys notte to blame.
Botte thou maiest fynde fulle store of marckes yn Kente.
Hughe
Mie noble loverde, Godwynn ys the same
He sweeres he wylle notte swelle the Normans ent.
Kynge
Ah traytoure! botte mie rage I wylle commaunde.
Thou arte a Normanne, Hughe, a straunger to the launde.
Thou kenneste howe these Englysche erle doe bere
Such stedness[173] in the yll and evylle thynge,
Botte atte the goode theie hover yn denwere[174],
Onknowlachynge[175] gif thereunto to clynge.
Hughe
Onwordie syke a marvelle[176] of a kynge!
O Edwarde, thou deservest purer leege[177];
To thee heie[178] shulden al theire mancas brynge;
Thie nodde should save menne, and thie glomb[179] forslege[180]. 175
I amme no curriedowe[181], I lacke no wite [182],
I speke whatte bee the trouthe, and whatte all see is ryghte.
Kynge
Thou arte a hallie[183] manne, I doe thee pryze.
Comme, comme, and here and hele[184] mee ynn mie praires.
Fulle twentie mancas I wylle thee alise [185],
And twayne of hamlettes[186] to thee and thie heyres.
So shalle all Normannes from mie londe be fed,
Theie alleyn[187] have syke love as to acquyre yer bredde.