XIX
His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,
Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee,
Add faith unto your force, and be not faint:
Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.
That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
His gall did grate for griefe[°] and high disdaine,
And knitting all his force got one hand free,
Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,