«Y yo —dijo ella—, soy reina del país sin fin. Su respuesta tendrá ella, os lo aseguro, No hablemos más de este asunto oscuro. A fe que no quiero llevaros la contraria jamás».
Now let us turn again to January, That in the garden with his fairë May Singeth well merrier than the popinjay:
“You love I best, and shall, and other none.”
So long about the alleys is he gone, Till he was comë to that ilkë perry, Where as this Damian sattë full merry On high, among the freshë leavës green.
This freshë May, that is so bright and sheen, Gan for to sigh, and said, “Alas my side! Now, Sir,” quoth she, “for aught that may betide, I must have of the pearës that I see, Or I must die, so sorë longeth me To eaten of the smallë pearës green; Help, for her love that is of heaven queen! I tell you well, a woman in my plight May have to fruit so great an appetite, That she may dien, but she of it have.”
“Alas!” quoth he, “that I had here a knave That couldë climb; alas! alas!” quoth he, “For I am blind.”
“Yea, Sir, no force,” quoth she; “But would ye vouchësafe, for Goddë’s sake, The perry in your armës for to take (For well I wot that ye mistrustë me), Then would I climbë well enough,” quoth she, “So I my foot might set upon your back.”
“Certes,” said he, “therein shall be no lack, Might I you helpë with mine heartë’s blood.”
Se inclinó, y sobre su espalda ella se paró, Y lo agarró de un trenzado, y allá va ella. (Señoras, os ruego que no estéis airadas, No sé adornar mis palabras, soy un hombre rudo): Y de súbito este Damián Se puso a alzar la camisa, y adentro se metió.