Stanza 70


No Analogue


Suspecta viri fama, suspecta facies, suspecta hora, suspecta erat oratio, quibus etsi clare occisum iri dulcem filiam intelligeret, nec lacrimulam tamen ullam nec suspirium dedit, in nutrice quidem, nedum in matre, durissimum.

Suspect was the reputation of the man, suspect his face, suspect the hour, suspect his words. By these tokens, she clearly knew her sweet daughter was to be killed; yet she shed no tear, she breathed no sigh – a thing most hard, even for a nurse, much more so for a mother.


Suspecious was the diffame of this man,
Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.
Allas, hir doghter that she loved so!
She wende he wolde han slawen it right tho;
But nathelees she neither weep ne syked,
Conformynge hir to that the markys lyked.

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