Alas! he sayde, myne owne lady, save
Myne honestye, and what ye list to have,
Ye shall have it at your owne desire.
Nowe wynde me up, my hart is on fyre.
Thou shalt, quod she, in that place abyde,
That all the cytie so ryght long and wyde
May the beholde and the matter knowe,
For myne honestie, and thy shame, I trowe.
So there he hong tyll noone of the daye,
That every persone whiche went by the waye