“O mercy, dearë father,” quoth the maid. And with that word she both her armës laid About his neck, as she was wont to do, (The tearës burst out of her eyen two), And said, “O goodë father, shall I die? Is there no grace? is there no remedý?” “No, certes, dearë daughter mine,” quoth he. “Then give me leisure, father mine,” quoth she, “My death for to complain 3465 a little space: For, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace For to complain, ere he her slew, alas! 3466 And, God it wot, nothing was her trespáss, 3467 But for she ran her father first to see, To welcome him with great solemnity.” And with that word she fell aswoon anon; And after, when her swooning was y-gone, She rose up, and unto her father said: “Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid. Give me my death, ere that I havë shame; Do with your child your will, in Goddë’s name.”