There was, as telleth Titus Livius, A knight, that called was Virginius, Full filled of honoúr and worthiness, And strong of friendës, and of great richéss. This knight one daughter haddë by his wife; No children had he more in all his life. Fair was this maid in excellent beautý Aboven ev’ry wight that man may see: For nature had with sov’reign diligence Y-formed her in so great excellence, As though she wouldë say, “Lo, I, Natúre, Thus can I form and paint a creatúre, When that me list; who can me counterfeit? Pygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat, Or grave or paintë: for I dare well sayn, Apelles, Zeuxis, shouldë work in vain, Either to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat, If they presumed me to counterfeit. For he that is the former principal, Hath madë me his vicar-general To form and painten earthly creatúrës Right as me list, and all thing in my cure is, Under the moonë, that may wane and wax. And for my work right nothing will I ax; My lord and I be full of one accord. I made her to the worship of my lord; So do I all mine other creatúres, What colour that they have, or what figúres.” Thus seemeth me that Nature wouldë say.
This maiden was of age twelve year and tway, In which that Nature haddë such delight. For right as she can paint a lily white, And red a rose, right with such paintúre She painted had this noble creatúre, Ere she was born, upon her limbës free, Where as by right such colours shouldë be: And Phoebus dyed had her tresses great, Like to the streamës of his burned heat. And if that excellent was her beautý, A thousand-fold more virtuous was she. In her there lacked no conditión, That is to praise, as by discretión. As well in ghost as body chaste was she: For which she flower’d in virginitý, With all humility and abstinence, With allë temperance and patience, With measure eke of bearing and array. Discreet she was in answering alway, Though she were wise as Pallas, dare