that e thē euyl by cause they be not made a they ought to be made. The somme taken a wyf for her beaulte. The other for accomplysshe theyr carnalyte or flesshly luste. other for theyr rychesses. And other for
of the wedlok / And after thys they ete blessyng our lord god / Ragu¦el callyd to hym anne hys wyf / and bad her to make redy another cubycle / And she brought Sara her doughter therin / and
feet to renne to mete hys so∣ne gyuyng to hym hys honde / And so takyng kyssed hym with hys wyf and began to wepe for Ioye whan than they had worshyped god and thanked hym they satte doun to
of god more than the other / And after that it happed that the prynce of the prouynce and hys wyf made sacrefise to thydollis for to haue a chyld / And marie magdalene prechid to them Ih̄u cryst /
gyue largely grete thynges / had nede to demaunde and aske the smale / And he had a right chast wyf / and mo¦che deuoute / to the blessid Vyrgyne ma¦rye / And a grete solempnyte approched at the whiche
to engendre men of ver¦tu and prophetes / and one of hys ser¦uauntes had a fayre wyf / and he de∣fended and forbadde his wyf that she shold not speke with his lord macho∣mete / & on a day he
and lawdes / he redde the bookes dyuyne / And his wyf was called Eudochice / he had also a dough¦ter named Eudoxe / whome he gaf to wyf to Valentynyen whom he made em¦perour / ¶And alle these thynges
and hylles and purposed to haue ben there all his lyf and neuir more to cō∣me home to Anne his wyf. ¶Than whanne Ioachim was gon Anne was sory and prayed to god and said Lor¦de that me is woo
Another is when thou mysuseste thyn own wyf. & dost ayenst kynde or ordre of maryage. for s thou mayst slee thy self. with thin own swerde Soo thou mayst wyth thyn own wyf For this synne was oname Iacobys
and myneAnd flaccus party to brynge to ruyneHe slough two thousand by hasty IugementAmonge which was many an InnocentHowe the wyf of hastruball brente hir silf and hir children.HEre Iohn bochas lyst in especyallo remēbre howe cartage newe ageyneDestroyed was
ther synne. Therforesaynt Austen in the same place spe∣kethmore of this mater ayenst the le¦cheryeof men and sayth thus. Perad¦uenturethy wyf hereth in the chircheby prechynge that it is not leful to theto take ony other but thy wyfe. Shecometh
meke to hym rebell & ene∣myeto his loue yt was his wyf & to alyt sholde come of them two / yet Adamstode obstynat. Than god punysshedEue his wyf his loue his helpe / & sopunysshed hȳ in Eue /
nati extiterantIT byfesse by old dayes thusWhylome the emperour TiberiusThe Monarche of Rome thus ladTher was a worthy Romayn hadA wyf & she Pauline hyghtWhiche was to euery mannys syghtOf al the Cyte the fayrestAnd as men sayden eke the
forth saylendeHer & her child to Rome he broughtAnd to his wyf thus he soughtTo take hyr in to companyeAnd she whiche couthe of curtosyeAl that a good wyf shold conneWas ly glad that she had wonneThe felauship of so
was contrayreBut he spak euer softe & fayreTyl it byfelle as it is toldeIn wynter when the day is coldeThis wyf was fro the welle comeWhere that a pot with water nomeShe hath & ought it in to howseAnd sawe
ryghtHe toke & sayd hou thylk nyghtHis wyf shal lygge by the kynḡAnd goth thynkend vpon this thyngToward his Inne tyl he ca in homeIn to the chambre & there he nomeHis wyf & told hyr al the casAnd she
ayene his wylleAnd thus his wyf a bedde stylleLay with the king the long nyghtTyl that it was hyghe sonne lyghtBut who she was he knewe no thyngTho cam the styward to the kyngAnd prayd hym that withoute shameIn sauyng
thylk same dayThat fresshe wyf that lusty mayOn ir it was al that they thoughteAnd so ferforth his lusstes soughThat they whiche named wereCentauri at the feste thereOf one assent / of one acordThis yong wyf maugre hir lordeIn suche
of Tyntagel & ye shal haue all your will of that lady:¶How Vter bigate on Igerne yt was the erles wyf of Cornewaill kyng Arthour Capi. lxxiMErlyn thurgh crafte that he cowde changed the kȳ∣ges figure in to the lyke∣nesse
layde him bihynde the spere at ye haldore For he cowght & row ghide so: his sonne and his sōnes wyf might no rest haue by hym in the chanmbre / And whan he lay so nigh the halle dore