Grisly Grisell; Or, The Laidly Lady of Whitburn: A Tale of the Wars of the Roses

Men speak of Job, and for his humblesse, And clerkes when hem list can well endite, Namely of men, but as in stedfastnese Though clerkes preisin women but a lite, There can no man in humblesse him acquite As women can, nor can be half so trewe As women ben.

By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, all the grown-up persons of the establishment—knights, squires, grooms, scullions, and females of every degree—had thronged round them, but parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, “Nay, Lady Countess, ’tis no sight for you.  The poor little maid is dead, or nigh upon it.”

Men speak of Job, and for his humblesse, And clerkes when hem list can well endite, Namely of men, but as in stedfastnese Though clerkes preisin women but a lite, There can no man in humblesse him acquite As women can, nor can be half so trewe As women ben.