What wond’rous Life in this I lead! Ripe Apples drop about my head; The Luscious Clusters of the Vine Upon my Mouth do crush their Wine; The Nectaren, and curious Peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on Melons, as I pass, Insnar’d with Flow’rs, I fall on Grass.

Forgive my voidance of the letter, thou To whom I am in deepest spirit known, Of challengeless uncalculating vow;.

`Trew ter Gord may He blind me eternally, I see her I tell yew, lyin' dead on the floor,' he vociferated, trembling rheumatically in the desire to carry conviction.

Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet, Yet of those fearfull women none durst rize, The Lyon frayed them, him in to let: 165 He would no longer stay him to advize,[*] But open breakes the dore in furious wize, And entring is; when that disdainfull beast Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize, And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest, 170 Under his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.