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.
XIV
And to augment her painefull pennance more,
Thrise every weeke in ashes she did sit,
And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,