Chapter LXXXIII

Lesbia while her lord stands near, rails ever upon me.
This to the fond weak fool seemeth a mighty delight.
Dolt, you see not at all. Could she forget me, to rail not,
Nought were amiss; if now scold she, or if she revile,
'Tis not alone to remember; a shrewder stimulus arms her, 5
Anger; her heart doth burn verily, thus to revile.