Xiii

Which when none yeelded, her unruly Page° With his rude claws the wicket open rent, And let her in; where of his cruell rage Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment, She found them both in darkesome corner pent; Where that old woman day and night did pray Upon her beads devoutly penitent; Nine hundred _Pater nosters_° every day, And thrise nine hundred _Aves_ she was wont to say.