"Of deadly hue we both of us remain;
We both stand silent; both with downcast eye.
So feeble is my tongue, that I with pain, So faint my voice, that I with pain can cry;
'Thou wouldst betray me then, O wife, for gain, If there was one that would my honour buy!'
She nought replies; nor save by tears she speaks, Which furrow, as they fall, her woeful cheeks.