But suche a sight it was to sene, I trow,
†As of these roses rody on their stalk:
There cowd no wight her spy to speke or talk
1205
In loves art, so gan she to abasshe,
Ne durst not utter all her privitè:
Many a stripe and many a grevous lasshe
She gave to thaim that wolden loveres be,
And hindered sore the simpill comonaltè,
1210