His swerd a-noon out of his shethe he [twighte],
Him-self to sleen, how sore that him smerte,
So that his sowle hir sowle folwen mighte,
[Ther-as] the doom of Mynos wolde it dighte;
Sin love and cruel Fortune it ne wolde,
1190
That in this world he lenger liven sholde.
171. Thanne seyde he thus, fulfild of heigh desdayn,
'O cruel Iove, and thou, Fortune adverse,
This al and som, that falsly have ye slayn