And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine's cell,
Ambrose, the anchorite old and gray!"
--"Oh, I will have none of Ambrose or John,
Though sage penitauncers I trow they be;
Shrive me may none save the Abbot alone--
Now listen, Lord Abbot, I speak to thee.
"Nor think foul scorn, though mitre adorn
Thy brow, to listen to shrift of mine!
I am a maiden royally born,
And I come of old Plantagenet's line.