And heterly they hurtlen al at ones, And fro the top doun cometh the grete stones. (60) In goth the grapenel so ful of crokes 640 Among the ropes, and the shering-hokes. In with the polax presseth he and he; Behind the mast beginneth he to flee, And out agayn, and dryveth him over-borde; He stingeth him upon his speres orde; 645 He rent the sail with hokes lyke a sythe; He bringeth the cuppe, and biddeth hem be blythe; He poureth pesen upon the hacches slider; With pottes ful of lym they goon to-gider; (70) And thus the longe day in fight they spende 650 Til, at the laste, as every thing hath ende, Antony is shent, and put him to the flighte, And al his folk to-go, that best go mighte. Fleeth eek the queen, with al her purpre sail, For strokes, which that wente as thikke as hail; 655 No wonder was, she mighte hit nat endure. And whan that Antony saw that aventure, 'Allas!' quod he, 'the day that I was born! My worshipe in this day thus have I lorn!' (80) And for dispeyr out of his witte he sterte, 660 And roof him-self anoon through-out the herte Er that he ferther wente out of the place. His wyf, that coude of Cesar have no grace, To Egipte is fled, for drede and for distresse; But herkneth, ye that speke of kindenesse. 665 Ye men, that falsly sweren many an ooth That ye wol dye, if that your love be wrooth, Heer may ye seen of women whiche a trouthe! This woful Cleopatre hath mad swich routhe (90) That ther nis tonge noon that may hit telle. 670 But on the morwe she wol no lenger dwelle, But made hir subtil werkmen make a shryne Of alle the rubies and the stones fyne In al Egipte that she coude espye; And putte ful the shryne of spycerye, 675 And leet the cors embaume; and forth she fette This dede cors, and in the shryne hit shette. And next the shryne a pit than doth she grave; And alle the serpents that she mighte have, (100) She putte hem in that grave, and thus she seyde: 680 'Now love, to whom my sorweful herte obeyde So ferforthly that, fro that blisful houre That I yow swor to been al frely youre, I mene yow, Antonius my knight! That never waking, in the day or night, 685 Ye nere out of myn hertes remembraunce For wele or wo, for carole or for daunce; And in my-self this covenant made I tho, That, right swich as ye felten, wele or wo, (110) As ferforth as hit in my power lay, 690 Unreprovable unto my wyfhood ay, The same wolde I felen, lyf or deeth.