“Thou falsë harlot,” quoth the miller, “hast? Ah, falsë traitor, falsë clerk,” quoth he, “Thou shalt be dead, by Goddë’s dignity, Who durstë be so bold to disparáge 1342 My daughter, that is come of such lineáge?” And by the throatë-ball 1343 he caught Alein, And he him hent 1344 dispiteously 1345 again, And on the nose he smote him with his fist; Down ran the bloody stream upon his breast: And in the floor with nose and mouth all broke They wallow, as do two pigs in a poke. And up they go, and down again anon, Till that the miller spurned 1346 on a stone, And down he backward fell upon his wife, That wistë nothing of this nicë strife: