This monk began upon this wife to stare, And said, “Alas! my niecë, God forbid That ye for any sorrow, or any dread, Fordo 3716 yourself: but tellë me your grief, Paráventure I may, in your mischíef, 3717 Counsel or help; and therefore tellë me All your annoy, for it shall be secré. For on my portos 3718 here I make an oath, That never in my life, for lief nor loth, 3719 Ne shall I of no counsel you bewray.” “The same again to you,” quoth she, “I say. By God and by this portos I you swear, Though men me woulden all in pieces tear, Ne shall I never, for 3720 to go to hell, Bewray one word of thing that ye me tell, For no cousinage, nor alliánce,