Patience is a conquering virtue.

If gold rusts, what then can iron do?

have you killed me, false thief?

Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience, That neither by hir wordes ne his face Biforn the fold, ne eek in her absence, Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.

Chese now," quod she, "oon of thise thynges tweye:
To han me foul and old til that I deye,
And be to yow a trewe, humble wyf,
And nevere yow displese in al my lyf,
Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair,
And take youre aventure of the repair
That shal be to youre hous by cause of me,
Or in som oother place, may wel be.
Now chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh.

And the old woman who had been the prince’s nurse became nurse to the prince’s children — at least she was called so; though she was far too old to do anything for them but love them. Yet she still thought that she was useful, and knew that she was happy. And happy, indeed, were the prince and princess, who in due time became king and queen, and lived and ruled long and prosperously.