His heart was perst with very agony.
Certes (said he) I will not eat, ne sleepe,
Till I have seen the royall maid more ny;
Then will I holde her in fast fealtie,
Whom then a carle adviséd, louting low,
That little neede there was for him to die,
Sithens in yon pavilion was the show,
Where she did ride, and he for two-and-six mote go.
(Variation II.—Dr. Jonathan Swift)
Our Chloe, fresh from London town,