Mingled with the bread ye eat,
Will, belovèd one and sweet,
But a bitter meal afford.
Here thou hast the bread well-guarded
By full eighty thousand fiends;
And which cost two faithful friends
Life, and all they most regarded.
Love, that so for thee hath bled,
Well, my lady, may'st thou cherish;
I, that love thee so, must perish,