Sir Gawayne.
[Sternly, to his bride.] What means this: now young and fair, now old and wizened? This is no stability!
Déliverance.
Alas, dear love! The spell is still on me, whereby I may be young and fair to you alone, and old and bent in company; or young and fair in company, and old and bent to you alone! It is for you to choose!
Sir Gawayne.
Oh, what a burden is thrust upon me! Alone with you to enjoy your delectable beauty, and in company to endure the tauntings and mockage of men ... or in company to have the envy of all for my lovely bride, and alone with you to discover a loathly crone of an hundred years of age! [He groans, throwing himself into a chair and covering his face.]
Déliveré.
[Sharply.] Choose ye now, or look well to yourself!
Sir Gawayne.