Hise hore heres were away,
And lich unto the freisshe Maii,
Whan passed ben the colde schoures,
Riht so recovereth he his floures.
Lo, what mihte eny man devise,
A womman schewe in eny wise
Mor hertly love in every stede,[224]
Than Medea to Jason dede?
Ferst sche made him the flees to winne,
And after that fro kiththe and kinne 4180