2920The monk gave ear unto her winning prate
And gazèd on her beauty masculine,
Whose feature might delude a wiser pate,
Assisted only by a tallow-shine.
(For by an unctious salve she kept her chin
From the hair-mantle of an agèd skin.)
'Madam', says he, 'I judge your language true,
And to your vows I dare my credence lace:
Your virgin-blushes innocence do show,
And modesty is printed on your face.