And god, to whom ther may nothing hid be, 400 If he in woman knowe had such malyce As men of hem recorde in generaltee, Of our lady, of lyf reparatryce, Nolde han be born; but, for that she of vyce Was voyde, and of al vertu (wel he wiste) 405 Endowed, of her to be bore him liste. Her heped vertu hath swich excellence That al to lene is mannes facultee To déclare it, and therfor in suspence Her duë preysing put mot nedes be. 410 But this we witen verrayly, that she, Next god, the best frend is that to man longeth; The key of mercy by her girdil hongeth. And of mercy hath every man swich nede That, cessing that, farwel the joye of man! 415 Of her power now taketh right good hede; She mercy may, wol, and purchace can. Displese her nat, honoureth that womman, And other wommen alle, for her sake! And, but ye do, your sorowe shal awake. 420 Thou precious gemme, O martir Margarete, Of thy blood draddest noon effusioun! Thy martirdom ne may I nat foryete; Thou, constant womman in thy passioun, Overcoom the feendes temptacioun; 425 And many a wight converted thy doctryne Unto the feith of god, holy virgyne! But understondeth, I commende hir noght By enchesoun of hir virginitee; Trusteth right wel, it cam not in my thoght; 430 For ever I werrey ayein chastitee, And ever shal; but this, lo! meveth me, Her loving herte and constant to her lay Dryve out of rémembrauncë I ne may. In any boke also wher can ye fynde, 435 That of the werkes or the dethe or lyf Of Jesu speketh, or maketh any mynde, That womman him forsook, for wo or stryf? Wher was ther any wight so ententyf Abouten him as wommen? Pardee, noon! 440 Th'apostels him forsoken, everichoon. Womman forsook him noght; for al the feyth Of holy chirche in womman lefte only. This is no lees, for holy writ thus seyth; Loke, and ye shal so fynde it, hardely. 445 And therfore it may preved be therby, That in womman regneth stable constaunce And in men is the chaunge and variaunce! Now holdeth this for ferme and for no lye, That this trewe and just commendacioun 450 Of wommen is nat told for flaterye, Ne to cause hem pryde or elacioun, But only, lo! for this entencioun, To yeve hem corage of perseveraunce In vertu, and hir honour to enhaunce. 455 The more vertu, the lasse is the pryde; Vertu so digne is, and so noble in kynde That vyce and she wol not in-fere abyde. She putteth vyce clene out of her mynde, She fleeth from him, she leveth him behynde. 460 O womman, that of vertu art hostesse, Greet is thyn honour and thy worthinesse!