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 1     I|      oblivion would my Muse be loth,~With his Gildippes dear,
 2     I| buildings with devouring fire,~Loth was the wretch the Frenchman
 3    II|       maiden shame yet was she loth to swerve:~Yet had her courage
 4   III|     far she would perchance be loth,~But quickly turned her,
 5   III|    season fitteth not;"~Though loth, Rinaldo stayed, and stopped
 6  VIII|  Longing to see what they were loth to know.~ ~ XLIX~His heavy
 7  VIII|         and serviceage, though loth,~Nor can his sharp teeth
 8     X|        to fight which made him loth,~He was a husband and a
 9   XII|       seely home I had desire,~Loth still to warm me at another'
10    XX|   Which he unperfect left; yet loth to lose~The day, the Christians