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26 But now the orphan sees his harvest fielde Beneath the gripe of Laws stern rapine fall, The friendlesse widow, from her hearth expelld, Withdraws to some poor hutt with earthen wall: And these, perdie, were Kathrins projects all; For, sooth to tell, grievd was the Knight full sore Such sinfull deeds to see: yet such his thrall, Though he had pledgd his troth, yet nathemore It mote he keep, except she willd the same before.

Oh wondrous Powre of Womans wily art, What for thy witchcraft too secure may be! Not Circes cup may so transform the heart, Or bend the will, fallacious Powre, like thee; Lo, manly Sense, of princely dignitie, Witchd by thy spells, thy crowching slave is seen; Lo, high-browd Honour bends the groveling knee, And every bravest virtue, sooth I ween, Seems like a blighted flowre of dank unlovely mien.