Ix

So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right, And each to deadly shame would drive his foe: The cruell steele so greedily doth bight In tender flesh that streames of bloud down flow, With which the armes, that earst so bright did show, Into a pure vermillion now are dyde: Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow, Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde, That victory they dare not wish to either side.