Checkmated

Mt? ladye epente a golden honre Last nighte witli me atte chesse. And only those who know her power Ye diré resalt can guesse, Ye littie hande, Hke leaf of ferne. Can sore destrucliou worke; Inne those deare eyee a m&gio lies, A mighte antolde dolk lurkel My ladye loves ye game of chesse, Ye hotte eonteeted Qelde; Yette smileth less when harde they presse Than when my cohorts yielde. Ah, if I dared to presse my 6uit Wonld slie bee cold and grave? Or would bhe emile in sweetness mate, Ye answer I doe crave? My fcishop good my love shail pleade; My knighte rldeon her queste; My pawns ehall hede her elighteet neede; My castle gaard her reste; My king whome erst she did dethrone. Shall bow a wiDing knee; My qaeene- nay, one is queene alone- Bhe plays atte chesse with mei