(She comes out of the bookcase.)
Come forth and whan we've made our reckoning
That girl perchance another tune will sing.
(Enter the Prioress.)
What word, sweet Eglantine, would you employ
To tell us of your vengeful wrath?
Prioress
.
(with deep intensity) St. Loy!
Wife
.
Then Chaucer's uttered sooth about her oath!
Odsbodikins! That cannot do us both!