Against my liking backe, to do you grace:
But not for gold nor glee[°] will I abide
By you, when ye arrive in that same place
For lever had I die, then see his deadly face.
XXXIII
Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,
Farre underneath a craggie clift ypight,
Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedy grave,