And putte a liquour in hire mouth,
Which is to fewe clerkes couth, 1200
So that sche coevereth ate laste:
And ferst hire yhen up sche caste,
And whan sche more of strengthe cawhte,
Hire Armes bothe forth sche strawhte,
Hield up hire hond and pitously
Sche spak and seide, ‘Ha, wher am I?[1589]
Where is my lord, what world is this?’
As sche that wot noght hou it is.