“Death may not makë no comparisoún Unto your love.” And when this marquis say 2594 The constance of his wife, he cast adown His eyen two, and wonder’d how she may In patience suffer all this array; And forth he went with dreary countenance; But to his heart it was full great pleasánce.

This ugly sergeant, in the samë wise That he her daughter caught, right so hath he (Or worse, if men can any worse devise,) Y-hent 2595 her son, that full was of beauty: And ever-in-one 2596 so patient was she, That she no cheerë made of heaviness, But kiss’d her son, and after gan him bless.