320
'O Eneas! what wil ye do?
O, that [your love], ne your bonde,
That ye han sworn with your right honde,
Ne my cruel deeth,' quod she,
'May holde yow still heer with me!
325
O, haveth of my deeth pitee!
Y-wis, my dere herte, ye
Knowen ful wel that never yit,