But being so beholden to the Prince,
It were but little grace in any of us,
Bent as he seem’d on going this third day, 625
To seek a second favour at his hands.
Yet if he could but tarry a day or two,
Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame,
Far liefer than so much discredit him.”
And Enid fell in longing for a dress 630
All branch’d and flower’d with gold, a costly gift
Of her good mother, given her on the night