‘Doghter,’ quod he, ‘Virginia, by thy name,
Ther been two weyes, outher deeth or shame,
That thou most suffre; allas! that I was bore! 215
For never thou deservedest wherfore
To dyen with a swerd or with a knyf.
O dere doghter, ender of my lyf,
Which I have fostred up with swich plesaunce,
That thou were never out of my remembraunce! 220
O doghter, which that art my laste wo,
And in my lyf my laste Ioye also,
O gemme of chastitee, in pacience
Take thou thy deeth, for this is my sentence.
For love and nat for hate, thou most be deed; 225
My pitous hand mot smyten of thyn heed.
Allas! that ever Apius thee say!
Thus hath he falsly Iuged thee to-day’—
And tolde hir al the cas, as ye bifore
Han herd; nat nedeth for to telle it more. 230