(6)
With that the rogue ran to the wall,
he having had his well,
And brought one child under his arm,
his deareſt blood to ſpill
The child ſeeing his father there,
to him for help did cail,
O Father, help my mother dear,
we ſhall be killed all.
Then fell the lord upon his knees,
and did the Moor intreat,
To ſave the life of his poor child,
whoſe fear was then ſo great.
But the ſad wretch, the little child
by both the heels did take,
And daſh'd his head againſt the wall
while parents heart did quake.
But being dead, he quickly ran
the other child to fetch,
And pluck't it from the Mother's breaſt,
Like a moſt cruel wretch.
Within one hand a knife he brought,
the child into the other,
And holding it over the wall,
ſaid, This way ſhall die the mother.
With that he cut the throat of it,
then on the father calls
To ſee how he the head had cut
that down the brains did fall,
