wel from suche thyng / this same so crates hym self was chidde & right foul spoken to of hys wyf & she Imposid to hym many grete Iniuries wyth out nombre / and she was in a place aboue
Tht is to syn̄ that til he be oute of helle / yf he loke behynde him / that hys wyf shal comen agayne vnto v / but what is he that may yeue a lawe to louers. loue is
That so she sauyd hym hys lyfHe wolde taken her to hys wyfFor she desyred nothyng ellisIn certeyn / as the book vs tellisBut texcuse thys EueasFullych of hys grete trespaasThe book sayth sauns faylleThe goddis bad hym go
wotist yet of thy companyAmaiden and loue huntyng and venoryAnd forto walyn in the wodis wildeAnd not to be a wyf and be with childeNought wil I knowe no companye of manNow help me lady sithnes thou may and canFor
blabbeNe thogh I say I am not leef to gabbeSay what thou wilt I shal it neuyr telleTo child ne wyf be hym that harowed helleNow Iohn quod Nicholas I wyl not lyeI haue founde hit in myn astrologyeAs I
entred into the ship bordThat none of vs speke no wordNe clepe ne crye but be in his prayereFor it is goddis owen hest dereThy wyf and thow must hang fer a twynFor that betwix you shal be no synne
our lif and I the besecheThis sely Carpenter goth forth his weyeAnd to noman wold he hit bewreyeBut to his wyf he tolde this priuyteAnd she was waar and knew it bet than heWhat al this queynte cast was for
softly he wentVnto the cradyl and in his arm it hentAn bare it softe vnto his beddis feetSone aftir the wyf hir rowtyng leetAnd gan awake and wente hir out to pisseAnd cam ayen and gan her cradyl mysseAnd gropid
his bare knees oughte al his lifThankin his god that hym sent a wyfOr ellis praye gd hym forto sendeA wyf to laste to his liues endeFor than his lif is set in sikcnesseHe may not be disceyued as y
in fyn clarreAnd vp right on his bedde sittith heAnd aftir that he sang ful lowde and clereAnd kissith his wyf & makith wanton chereHe was al coltissh and ful of rageryAnd ful of Iargon as is a fleckid pyeThe
all a feer of IelosieLest that his wyf shal falle in som folySo brent his herte that he wolde faynThat som man bothe hym & here had sleynFor neuer after his deth ne his lyfNe wolde he that she were
he mighteAnd whan that he hadde caught his sighte agaynNe was ther noman of thing so faynBut on his wyf his thought was euyr moVp to the tre he cast his yen twoAnd saw how damyan his wyf hath dressid
telle canOur Ihesus refresshid many a manIn swhich astat as god hath clepid vsI wyl {per}seuere I am not preciousIn wyf hood wyl I vse myn instrumentAs frely as my maker hath it sentIf I be daungerous god yeue me
auyseA wyf yf that she can her goodShal bere hym on hond the cow is woodAnd take witnesse of her owen maydeOf here assent but herkenyth how I saydeSire olde kaynard is this thyn arayWhy is myn neyghebours wyf so
trow thou woldist lokke me in thy chesteThou sholdist say gode wyf go where ye listeTake your disport I wol leue no talisI knowe you for a trewe wyf dame alisWe loue noman that takith kepe or chargeWhere that we
knyght this olde wyf gan ryseAnd sayde sir knyght herforth lith no wayTel me what ye seke be your fayParauenture it may the bettir beThyse olde folk can muche thing quod sheMy leue moder quod this knyght certeynI am but
benediciteFarith euery knyght with his wyf as yeIs this the lawe of kyng Artours housIs euery knyght of his loue so daungerousI am your owen loue and eke yur wyfI am she whiche that saued hath your lyfAnd certis yet
ye repreuyd meAnd certis ire though non auctoriteWere in the book the gentil of hauourSayn that men sholde an olde wyf do honourAnd clepid fader for their gentilnesAnd auctours shal I fynde as I gesNow there as ye say I
meThan I haue gote of you the maistrye quod sheSyn I may chese and gouerne you as me listYe certis wyf quod he I holde it for the bestKys me quod she we be no lengir wrothFor be my trouthe
a wyf in short tyme atte lesteBorn of the gentillest and of the mesteOf al this londe so that it oughte semeHonour to god and you as I can demeDeliuer vs out of al this besy dredeAnd take a wyf