Their hearts were, but kept silence, till the strength
Of pride and envious hatred burst at length
In voice, and thus the elder gan complain:
13
‘Cruel and unjust fortune! that of three
Sisters, whose being from one fountain well’d,
Exalts the last so high from her degree,
And leaves the first to be so far excel’d.
My husband is a poor and niggard churl
To him, whoe’er he be, that loves the girl.