“Alas!” quoth she, “on thee, Fortúne, I plain, 3357 That unware hast me wrapped in thy chain, From which to scapë, wot I no succoúr, Save only death, or ellës dishonoúr; One of these two behoveth me to choose. But natheless, yet had I lever 3358 lose My life, than of my body havë shame, Or know myselfë false, or lose my name; And with my death I may be quit y-wis. 3359 Hath there not many a noble wife, ere this, And many a maiden, slain herself, alas! Rather than with her body do trespass? Yes, certes; lo, these stories bear witnéss. 3360 When thirty tyrants full of cursedness 3361 Had slain Phidon in Athens at the feast, They cómmanded his daughters to arrest, And bringë them before them, in despite, All naked, to fulfil their foul delight;