Thus plained Dorigen a day or tway, Purposing ever that she woulde dey;* *die But natheless upon the thirde night Home came Arviragus, the worthy knight, And asked her why that she wept so sore. And she gan weepen ever longer more. “Alas,” quoth she, “that ever I was born! Thus have I said,” quoth she; “thus have I sworn. “ And told him all, as ye have heard before: It needeth not rehearse it you no more. This husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise, *demeanour Answer’d and said, as I shall you devise.* *relate “Is there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?” “Nay, nay,” quoth she, “God help me so, *as wis* *assuredly* This is too much, an* it were Godde’s will.” *if “Yea, wife,” quoth he, “let sleepe what is still, It may be well par’venture yet to-day. Ye shall your trothe holde, by my fay. For, God so wisly* have mercy on me, *certainly *I had well lever sticked for to be,* *I had rather be slain* For very love which I to you have, But if ye should your trothe keep and save. Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.” But with that word he burst anon to weep, And said; “I you forbid, on pain of death, That never, while you lasteth life or breath, To no wight tell ye this misaventure; As I may best, I will my woe endure, Nor make no countenance of heaviness, That folk of you may deeme harm, or guess.” And forth he call’d a squier and a maid. “Go forth anon with Dorigen,” he said, “And bringe her to such a place anon.” They take their leave, and on their way they gon: But they not wiste why she thither went; He would to no wight telle his intent.