Shee shewde mee all the dongeon where I sate,
The dankish walles, the darkes, and bade mee smell,
And byde the sauour if I likt it well.
43.
Whereby I wretch deuoyd of comfort quite and hope,
And pleasures past comparde with present paynes I had,
For fatall knife slipt forth, my fearefull hand did grope:
Despayre in this to ayde my senceles limmes was glad,
And gaue the blade: to end my woes she bad.
“I will (quoth I) but first with all my hart