The timë came that reason was to rise; And after that men dance, and drinkë fast, And spices all about the house they cast, And full of joy and bliss is every man, All but a squire, that hightë Damian, Who carv’d before the knight full many a day; He was so ravish’d on his lady May, That for the very pain he was nigh wood; 2874 Almost he swelt 2875 and swooned where he stood, So sore had Venus hurt him with her brand, As that she bare it dancing in her hand. And to his bed he went him hastily; No more of him as at this time speak I; But there I let him weep enough and plain, 2876 Till freshë May will rue upon his pain. O perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth! O foe familiar, 2877 that his service bedeth! 2878