But at Bologna, to his sister dear, That at that time of Panic’ 2572 was Countéss, He should it take, and shew her this mattere, Beseeching her to do her business This child to foster in all gentleness, And whosë child it was he bade her hide From every wight, for aught that might betide.

The sergeant went, and hath fulfill’d this thing. But to the marquis now returnë we; For now went he full fast imagining If by his wifë’s cheer he mightë see, Or by her wordës apperceive, that she Were changed; but he never could her find, But ever-in-one 2573 alikë sad 2574 and kind.