The Disguising at Heord | Page 4

yeere?Certayne sweynes, ful [froward of ther chere],?Of entent comen, [fallen on ther kne],?For to compleyne vn to yuoure magestee?Vpon the mescheef of gret aduersytee,?Vpon the trouble and the cruweltee [10]?Which that they haue endured in theyre lyves?By the felnesse of theyre fierce wyves,?Which is a tourment verray importable,?A bonde of sorowe, a knott vnremuwable.?For whoo is bounde or locked in maryage,?Yif he beo olde, he falleth in dotage,?And yong folkes, of theyre lymes sklendre,?Grene and lusty, and of brawne but tendre,?Phylosophres callen in suche aage?A Chylde to wyve, a woodnesse or a raage. [20]
For they afferme ther is noon eorthly stryff?May beo compared to wedding of a wyff,?And who that euer stondethe in the cas?He with his Rebecke may sing ful oft ellas,?Lyke as theos hynes, here stonding oon by oon,?He may with hem vpon the daunce goon.?Leorne the traas, boothe at even and morowe?Of Karycantowe in tourment and in sorowe....?Weyle the while ellas that he was borne.?For Obbe, the Reeve, that goothe heere al to forne, [30] He pleynethe sore, his mariage is not meete,?For his wyff, Beautryce Bittersweete,?Cast vpon him an hougly cheer ful rowghe?Whane he komethe home, ful wery frome the ploughe,?With hungry stomake, deed and paale of cheere,?In hope to fynde redy his dynier.
Thanne sittethe Beautryce, bolling at the nale,?As she that gyvethe of him no maner tale.?For she alday with hir iowsy nolle,?Hathe for the collyk pouped in the bolle [40]?And for heed aache : with pepir and gynger?Dronk dolled ale, to make hir throte cleer,?And komethe hir hoome, whane hit drawethe to eve.?And thanne Robyn, the cely poure Reeve,?Fynde noone amendes of harome ne damage?But leene growell, and soupethe cold potage,?And of his wyf hathe noone other cheer?But cokkrowortes vn to his souper.?This is his servyce sitting at the borde,?And cely Robyn, yif he speke a worde, [50]?Beautryce of him doothe so lytel rekke?That with hir distaff she hittethe him in the nekke,?For a medecyne to chawf with his bloode.?With suche a metyerde she hathe shape him an hoode.
And Colyn Cobeller, folowing his felawe,?Hathe hade his part of the same lawe,?For by the fayth that the preost him gaf?His wyff hathe taught him to pleyne at the staff.?Hir quarter strooke were so large and rounde?That on his rigge the towche was alwey founde. [60]
Cecely Sourechere, his owen precyous spouse,?Kowde him reheete whan he came to house.?Yif he ought spake whanne he felt peyne,?Ageyne oon worde alweys he hade tweyne.?Sheo qwytt him euer, ther was no thing to seeche,?Six for oon, of worde and strookes eeche.?Ther was no meen bytweene hem for to goone.?What euer he wan : clowting olde shoone?The wykday, pleynely this is no tale,?Sheo wolde on Sondayes drynk it at the nale. [70]?His part was noon, he sayde not oonys nay.?Hit is no game, but an hernest play?For lack of wit a man his wyf to greeve.?Theos housbondemen : who so wolde hem leeve,?Koude yif they dourst telle : in Audyence,?What folowethe ther of wyves to doone offence.?Is noon so olde ne ryveld on hir face,?Wit tong or staff but that she dare manase.?Mabyle, God hir sauve and blesse,?Koude yif hir list bere here of witnesse, [80]?Wordes, strookes vnhappe, and harde grace,?With sharp nayles kracching in the face.?I mene thus, whane the distaff is brooke?With theyre fistes wyves wol be wrooke.
Blessed thoo men that cane in suche offence?Meekly souffre, take al in pacyence?Tendure suche wyfly purgatorye.?Heven for theyre meede, to regne ther in glorye.?God graunt al housbandes that beon in this place?To wynne so heven for his hooly grace. [90]
Nexst in ordre, this bochier stoute and bolde?That killed hathe bulles and boores olde,?This Berthilmew, for al his broode knyff,?Yit durst he neuer with his sturdy wyff?In no mater holde chaumpartye.?And if he did, sheo wolde anoon defye?His pompe, his pryde, with a sterne thought,?And sodeynly setten him at nought.?Thoughe his bely were rounded lyche an ooke?She wolde not fail to gyf the first strooke. [100] For proude Pernelle lyche a Chaumpyon?Wolde leve hir puddinges in a gret Cawdroun,?Suffre hem boylle and taake of hem noon heede,?But with hir skumour reeche him on the heued.?Shee wolde paye him and make no delaye,?Bid him goo pleye him a twenty deuel way.?She was no cowarde founde at suche a neode,?Hir fist ful offt made his cheekis bleed.?What querell euer that he agenst hir sette,?She cast hir not to dyen in his dette. [110]?She made no taylle, but qwytt him by and by.?His quarter sowde, she payde him feythfully.?And his waages, wt al hir best entent,?She made ther of noon assignement.
Eeke Thome Tynker, with alle hees pannes olde?And alle the wyres of Banebury that he solde,?His styth, his hamour, his bagge portatyf,?Bare vp his arme whane he faught with his wyff:?He foonde for haste no better bokeller,?Vpon his cheeke the distaff came so neer. [120]?Hir name