The payne and sorowe of euyll maryage,
TAke hede and lerne thou lytell chylde and se
That tyme passed wyl not agayne retourne
And in thy youthe vnto vertues vse the
Lette in thy brest no maner vyce soiourne
That in thyne aege thou haue no cause to mourne
For tyme lost nor for defaute of wytte
Thynke on this lesson / and in thy mynde it shytte
Glorye vnto god / louynge and benyson
To Peter and Iohan and also to Laurence
Whiche haue me take vnder proteccyon
From the deluge of mortall pestylence
And from the tempest of deedly vyolence
And me preserue that I fall not in the rage
Vnder the bonde and yocke of maryage
I was in purpose to haue taken a wyfe
And for to haue wedded without auysednes
A full fayre mayde with her to lede my lyfe
whome that I loued of hasty wylfulnes
with other fooles to haue lyued in dystresse
As some gaue me counseyle & began me to constrayne
To haue be partable of theyr woofull payne
They laye vpon me and hasted me full sore
And gaue me counseyle for to haue be bounde
And began to prayse eche daye more and more
The woofull lyfe in whiche they dyd habounde
And were besy my gladnes to confounde
Themselfe reioysynge bothe at euen and morowe
To haue a felowe to lyue with them in sorowe
But of his grace god hath me preserued
By the wyse counseyle of these aungelles thre
From hell gates / they haue my lyfe conserued
In tyme of warre whan louers lusty
And bryght phebus was fresshest vnto se
In gemynys the lusty and glad season
whan to wedde caught fyrst occasyon
My ioye was sette in especyall
To haue wedded one excellent in fayrnes
And thrugh her beaute haue made my selfe thrall
Vnder the yocke of euerlastynge dystresse
But god alonely of his hygh goodnes
Hath by an aungell as ye haue herde me tell
Stopped my passage / from that peryllous hell
Amonge these aungelles that were in nombre thre
There appered one out of the southe
whiche spake fyrst of all to the trynyte
All of one sentence the mater is full couthe
And he was called Iohan with the golden mouthe
whiche concluded by sentence full notable
wyues of custome ben gladly varyable
After this Iohan the story sayth also
In confyrmacyon of theyr fragylyte
How that Peter called acorbylio
Affermeth playnly how that wyues be
Dyuerse of herte full of duplycyte
Maysterfull hasty and eke proude
Crabbed of langage whan they lyst crye aloude
Who taketh a wyfe receyueth a greate charge
In whiche he is full lyke to haue a fall
with tempest tossed as is a besy barge
There he was free he maketh hymselfe thrall
wyues of porte ben full Imperyall
Husbandes dare not theyr lustes gaynsaye
But louely please and mekely them obaye
The husbandes euer abydeth in trauayle
One labour passed there cometh another newe
And euery daye she begynneth a batayle
And in complaynynge chaungeth chere and hewe
Vnder suche falsues she fayneth to be true
She maketh hym rude as is a dull asse
Out of whose daunger impossyble is to passe
Thus wedlocke is an endlesse penaunce
Husbandes knowe that haue experyence
A martyrdom and a contynuaunce
In sorowe euerlastynge a deedly vyolence
And this of wyues is gladly the sentence
Vpon theyr husbandes whan they lyst to be bolde
How they alone gouerneth the housholde
And yf her husbande happen for to thryue
She sayth it is her prudent purueyaunce
If they go abacke ayenwarde and vnthryue
She sayth it is his mysgouernaunce
He bereth the blame of all suche ordynaunce
And yf they be poore and fall in dystresse
She sayth it is his foly and lewdnesse
And yf so be he be no werkman good
It may well happe he shall haue an horne
A large bone to stuffe with his hood
A mowe behynde and fayned chere beforne
And yf it fall that theyr good be lorne
By auenture eyther at euen or morowe
The sely husbande shall haue all the sorowe
An husbande hath greate cause to care
For wyfe / for chylde / for stuffe and meyne
And yf ought lacke she wyll bothe swere and stare
He is a wastour and shall neuer the
And Salomon sayth there be thynges thre
Shrewde wyues / rayne / and smokes blake
Make husbandes ofte theyr houses to forsake
Wyues be beestes very vnchaungeable
In theyr desyres whiche may not staunched be
Lyke a swalowe whiche is insacyable
Peryllous caryage in the trouble see
A wawe calme full of aduersyte
whose blandysshynge endeth with myschaunce
Called Cyrenes euer full of varyaunce
They them reioyce to se and to be sene
And for to seke sondrye pylgrymages
At greate gaderynges to walke on the grene
And on scaffoldes to sytte on hygh stages
If they be fayre to shewe theyr vysages
And yf they be foule of loke or countenaunce
They it amende with pleasynge dalyaunce
And of profyte they take but lytell hede
But loketh soure whan theyr husbandes ayleth ought
And of good mete & drynke they wyll not fayle in dede
what so euer it cost they care ryght nought
Nor they care not how dere it be bought
Rather than they sholde therof lacke or mysse
They wolde leuer laye some pledge ywys
It is trewe I tell you yonge men euerychone
women be varyble and loue many wordes and stryfe
who can not appease them lyghtly or anone
Shall haue care and sorowe all his lyfe
That woo the tyme that euer he toke a wyfe
And wyll take thought and often muse
How he myght fynde the maner his wyfe to refuse
But that maner with trouth can not be founde
Therfore be wyse or ye come in the snare
Or er ye take the waye of that bounde
For and ye come there your ioye is tourned vnto care
And remedy is there none so may I fare
But to take pacyens & thynke none other way aboute
Than shall ye dye a martyr without ony doute
Therfore you men that wedded be
Do nothynge agaynst the pleasure of your wyfe
Than shall you lyue the more meryly
And often cause her to lyue withouten stryfe
without thou arte vnhappy vnto an euyll lyfe
Than yf she than wyll be no better
Set her vpon a lelande and bydde the deuyll fet her
Therfore thynke moche and saye nought
And thanke god of his goodnesse
And prece not for to knowe all her thought
For than shalte thou not knowe as I gesse
without it be of her owne gentylnesse
And that is as moche as a man may put in his eye
For yf she lyst of thy wordes she careth not a flye
And to conclude shortly vpon reason
To speke of wedlocke of fooles that be blente
There is no greter grefe nor feller poyson
Nor none so dredefull peryllous serpent
As is a wyfe double of her entent
Therfore let yonge men to eschewe sorowe and care
withdrawe theyr fete or they come in the snare
FINIS.