I. CAPTIVITY YOUR yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaute of hem not sustene, So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. And but your word wol helen hastily My hetres wounde, whyl that hit is grene, Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaute of hem not sustene. Upon my trouthe I seyy yow feithfully, That ye ben of my lyf deeth the quene; Foe with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene. Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaute of hem not sustene, So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. Geoffrey Chaucer (1340-1400)