I took his demand, as now know mayest thou, More showing is but lost, where no mercy can be. Thus I answered him, and thus I answer thee. CEL. The more strange she maketh, the gladder am I: There is no tempest, that ever doth endure. [_Aside_. MEL. What say'st thou, what say'st, thou shameful enemy? Speak out. CEL. So 'feard I am of your displeasure; Your anger is so great, I perceive it sure, And your patience is in so great an heat, That for woe and fear I both weep and sweat. MEL. Little is the heat in comparison to say To the great boldness of thy demeaning. CEL. Fair maiden, yet one word, now I you pray: Appease with patience, and bear my saying. It is for a prayer, mistress, my demanding, That is said ye have of Saint Appoline, For the toothache, whereof this man is in pain. And the girdle there thou wearest about thee, And so many holy relics it hath touched, That this knight thinketh his boot thou may'st be. Therefore let thy pity now be avouched; For my heart for fear like a dog is couched. The delight of vengeance whoso doth use, Pity at their need shall them refuse. MEL. If this be true, that thou say'st to me now, Mine heart is lightened, perceiving the case: I would be content well, if I wist how, To bring this sick knight unto some solace. CEL. Fair damsel, to thee be health and grace: For if this knight and ye were acquainted both two, Ye would not judge him the man that ye do. By God and by my soul, in him is no melancholy: With grace endued in freedom as Alexander, In strength as Hector, in countenance merry: Gracious, envy in him reigned never. Of noble blood, as thou knowest, and if ye ever Saw him armed, he seemeth a Saint George. Rather than to be made in nature's forge, An angel thou would'st judge him, I make a vow. The gentle Narcissus was never so fair, That was enamoured on his own shadow; Wherefore, fair maid, let thy pity repair: Let mercy be thy mother, and thou her heir. This knight, whom I come for, never ceaseth. But crieth out of pain, that still increaseth. MEL. How long time, I pray thee, hath it holden him? CEL. I think he be twenty-four years of age; I saw him born, and holp for to fold him. MEL. I demand thee not thereof: thine answer assuage; I ask thee how long in this painful rage He hath lain? CEL. Of truth, fair maiden, as he says, He hath be in this agony this eight days. But he seemeth, [as] he had lain this seven year. MEL. Oh, how it grieveth me the ill of my patient, Knowing his agony and thy innocency here. Unto mine anger thou hast made resistance, Wherefore thy demand I grant in recompense. Have here my girdle: the prayer is not ready; To-morrow it shall be: come again secretly. And, mother, of these words passed between us