2001 Out of his book, right as he read, and eke I with my fist so took him on the cheek, That in our fire he backward fell adown. And he up start, as doth a wood lión, And with his fist he smote me on the head, That on the floor I lay as I were dead. And when he saw how still that there I lay, He was aghast, and would have fled away, Till at the last out of my swoon I braid, 2002 “Oh, hast thou slain me, thou false thief?” I said, “And for my land thus hast thou murder’d me? Ere I be dead, yet will I kissë thee.” And near he came, and kneeled fair adown, And saidë, “Dearë sister Alisoun, As help me God, I shall thee never smite: That I have done it is thyself to wite, 2003 Forgive it me, and that I thee beseek.” 2004 And yet eftsoons 2005 I hit him on the cheek,