 | A Mumming At Hertford |  |
Nowe foloweþe here þe maner of a bille by wey of
supplicacion putte to þe kyng holding his noble
feest of Cristmasse in Þe Castel of Hertford as in a
disguysing of þe rude vpplandisshe people compleynyng
on hir wyves, with þe boystous aunswere
of hir wyves, devysed by Lydegate at þe request
of þe Countre Roullour Brys slayne at Loviers.
Moost noble Prynce, with support of Your Grace
Þer beon entred in-to youre royal place,
And late e-comen in-to youre castell,
Youre poure lieges, wheche lyke no-thing weel;
Nowe in þe vigyle of þis nuwe yeere
Certeyne sweynes ful [froward of ther chere]
Of entent comen, [fallen on ther kne],
For to compleyne vn-to Yuoure Magestee
Vpon þe mescheef of gret aduersytee,
Vpon þe trouble and þe cruweltee
Which þat þey haue endured in þeyre lyves
By þe felnesse of þeyre 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 falleþe in dotage.
And yong[e] folkes, of þeyre lymes sklendre,
Grene and lusty, and of brawne but tendre,
Phylosophres callen in suche aage
A chylde to wyve, a woodnesse or a raage.
For þey afferme þer is noon eorþely stryff
May beo compared to wedding of a wyff,
And who þat euer stondeþe in þe cas,
He with his rebecke may sing ful offt ellas!
Lyke as þeos hynes, here stonding oon by oon,
He may with hem vpon þe daunce goon,
Leorne þe traas, booþe at even and morowe,
Of Karycantowe in tourment and in sorowe;
Weyle þe whyle, ellas! þat he was borne.
For Obbe þe Reeve, þat gooþe heere al to-forne,
He pleyneþe sore his mariage is not meete,
For his wyff, Beautryce Bittersweete,
Cast vpon him an hougly cheer ful rowghe,
Whane he komeþe home ful wery frome þe ploughe,
With hungry stomake deed and paale of cheere,
In hope to fynde redy his dynier;
Þanne sitteþe Beautryce bolling at þe nale,
As she þat gyveþe of him no maner tale;
For she al day, with hir iowsy nolle,
Hathe for þe collyk pouped in þe bolle,
And for heed aache with pepir and gynger
Dronk dolled ale to make hir throte cleer;
And komeþe hir hoome, whane hit draweþe to eve,
And þanne Robyn, þe cely poure Reeve,
Fynde noone amendes of harome ne damage,
But leene growell, and soupeþe colde potage;
And of his wyf haþe noone oþer cheer
But cokkrowortes vn-to his souper.
Þis is his servyce sitting at þe borde,
And cely Robyn, yif he speke a worde,
Beautryce of him dooþe so lytel rekke,
Þat with hir distaff she hitteþe him in þe nekke,
For a medecyne to chawf with his bloode;
With suche a metyerde she haþe shape him an hoode.
And Colyn Cobeller, folowing his felawe,
Haþe hade his part of þe same lawe;
For by þe feyth þat þe preost him gaf,
His wyff haþe taught him to pleyne at þe staff;
Hir quarter-strooke were so large and rounde
Þat on his rigge þe towche was alwey founde.
Cecely Soure-Chere, his owen precyous spouse,
Kowde him reheete whane he came to house;
Yif he ought spake whanne he felt[e] peyne,
Ageyne oon worde, alweys he hade tweyne;
Sheo qwytt him euer, þer was no thing to seeche,
Six for oon of worde and strookes eeche.
Þer was no meen bytweene hem for to goone;
What euer he wan, clowting olde shoone
Þe wykday, pleynly þis is no tale,
Sheo wolde on Sondayes drynk it at þe nale.
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.
Þeos housbondemen, who-so wolde hem leeve,
Koude yif þey dourst telle in audyence
What foloweþe þer of wyves to doone offence;
Is noon so olde ne ryveld on hir face,
Wit tong or staff but þat she dare manase.
Mabyle, God hir sauve and blesse,
Koude yif hir list bere here of witnesse:
Wordes, strookes vnhappe, and harde grace
With sharp[e] nayles kracching in þe face.
I mene þus, whane þe distaff is brooke,
With þeyre fistes wyves wol be wrooke.
Blessed þoo men þat cane in suche offence
Meekly souffre, take al in pacyence,
Tendure suche wyfly purgatorye.
Heven for þeyre meede, to regne þer in glorye,
God graunt al housbandes þat beon in þis place,
To wynne so heven for His hooly grace.
Nexst in ordre, þis bochier stoute and bolde
Þat killed haþe bulles and boores olde,
Þis Berthilmewe, 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.
Þoughe his bely were rounded lyche an ooke
She wolde not fayle to gyf þe first[e] strooke;
For proude Pernelle, lyche a chaumpyoun,
Wolde leve hir puddinges in a gret cawdroun,
Suffre hem boylle, and taake of hem noon heede,
But with hir skumour reeche him on þe heued.
Shee wolde paye him; and make no delaye,
Bid him goo pleye him a twenty deuel wey.
She was no cowarde founde at suche a neode,
Hir fist ful offt made his cheekis bleed;
What querell euer þat he agenst hir sette,
She cast hir not to dyen in his dette.
She made no taylle, but qwytt him by and by;
His quarter sowde, she payde him feythfully,
And his waages, with al hir best entent,
She made þer-of noon assignement.
Eeke Thome Tynker with alle hees pannes olde,
And alle þe wyres of Banebury þat 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 þe distaff came so neer.
Hir name was cleped Tybot Tapister.
To brawle and broyle she nad no maner fer,
To thakke his pilche, stoundemel nowe and þanne,
Thikker þane Thome koude clowten any panne.
Nexst Colle Tyler, ful hevy of his cheer,
Compleyneþe on Phelyce his wyff, þe wafurer.
Al his bred with sugre nys not baake,
Yit on his cheekis some-tyme he haþe a caake
So hoot and nuwe, or he can taken heede,
Þat his heres glowe verray reede,
For a medecyne whane þe forst is colde,
Making his teethe to ratle, þat beon oolde.
Þis is þe compleynt, þat þeos dotardes oolde
Make on þeyre wyves, þat beon so stoute and bolde.
Þeos holy martirs, preued ful pacyent,
Lowly beseching in al hir best entent,
Vn-to Youre Noble Ryal Magestee
To graunte hem fraunchyse and also liberte,
Sith þey beoþe fetird and bounden in maryage,
A sauf-conduyt to sauf him frome damage.
Eeke vnder support of youre hyeghe renoun,
Graunt hem also a proteccyoun;
Conquest of wyves is ronne thoroughe þis lande,
Cleyming of right to haue þe hyegher hande.
But if you list, of youre regallye,
Þe Olde Testament for to modefye,
And þat yee list asselen þeyre request,
Þat þeos poure husbandes might lyf in rest,
And þat þeyre wyves in þeyre felle might
Wol medle amonge mercy with þeyre right.
For it came neuer of nature ne raysoun,
A lyonesse toppresse þe lyoun,
Ner a wolfesse, for al hir thyraunye,
Ouer þe wolf to haven þe maystrye.
Þer beon nowe wolfesses moo þane twoo or three,
Þe bookys recorde wheeche þat yonder bee.
Seoþe to þis mater of mercy and of grace,
And or þees dotardes parte out of þis place,
Vpon þeyre compleynt to shape remedye,
Or þey beo likly to stande in iupardye.
It is no game with wyves for to pleye,
But for foolis, þat gif no force to deye!
Þer beon entred in-to youre royal place,
And late e-comen in-to youre castell,
Youre poure lieges, wheche lyke no-thing weel;
Nowe in þe vigyle of þis nuwe yeere
Certeyne sweynes ful [froward of ther chere]
Of entent comen, [fallen on ther kne],
For to compleyne vn-to Yuoure Magestee
Vpon þe mescheef of gret aduersytee,
Vpon þe trouble and þe cruweltee
Which þat þey haue endured in þeyre lyves
By þe felnesse of þeyre 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 falleþe in dotage.
And yong[e] folkes, of þeyre lymes sklendre,
Grene and lusty, and of brawne but tendre,
Phylosophres callen in suche aage
A chylde to wyve, a woodnesse or a raage.
For þey afferme þer is noon eorþely stryff
May beo compared to wedding of a wyff,
And who þat euer stondeþe in þe cas,
He with his rebecke may sing ful offt ellas!
676
He may with hem vpon þe daunce goon,
Leorne þe traas, booþe at even and morowe,
Of Karycantowe in tourment and in sorowe;
Weyle þe whyle, ellas! þat he was borne.
For Obbe þe Reeve, þat gooþe heere al to-forne,
He pleyneþe sore his mariage is not meete,
For his wyff, Beautryce Bittersweete,
Cast vpon him an hougly cheer ful rowghe,
Whane he komeþe home ful wery frome þe ploughe,
With hungry stomake deed and paale of cheere,
In hope to fynde redy his dynier;
Þanne sitteþe Beautryce bolling at þe nale,
As she þat gyveþe of him no maner tale;
For she al day, with hir iowsy nolle,
Hathe for þe collyk pouped in þe bolle,
And for heed aache with pepir and gynger
Dronk dolled ale to make hir throte cleer;
And komeþe hir hoome, whane hit draweþe to eve,
And þanne Robyn, þe cely poure Reeve,
Fynde noone amendes of harome ne damage,
But leene growell, and soupeþe colde potage;
And of his wyf haþe noone oþer cheer
But cokkrowortes vn-to his souper.
Þis is his servyce sitting at þe borde,
And cely Robyn, yif he speke a worde,
Beautryce of him dooþe so lytel rekke,
Þat with hir distaff she hitteþe him in þe nekke,
For a medecyne to chawf with his bloode;
With suche a metyerde she haþe shape him an hoode.
And Colyn Cobeller, folowing his felawe,
Haþe hade his part of þe same lawe;
For by þe feyth þat þe preost him gaf,
His wyff haþe taught him to pleyne at þe staff;
Hir quarter-strooke were so large and rounde
Þat on his rigge þe towche was alwey founde.
Cecely Soure-Chere, his owen precyous spouse,
Kowde him reheete whane he came to house;
677
Ageyne oon worde, alweys he hade tweyne;
Sheo qwytt him euer, þer was no thing to seeche,
Six for oon of worde and strookes eeche.
Þer was no meen bytweene hem for to goone;
What euer he wan, clowting olde shoone
Þe wykday, pleynly þis is no tale,
Sheo wolde on Sondayes drynk it at þe nale.
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.
Þeos housbondemen, who-so wolde hem leeve,
Koude yif þey dourst telle in audyence
What foloweþe þer of wyves to doone offence;
Is noon so olde ne ryveld on hir face,
Wit tong or staff but þat she dare manase.
Mabyle, God hir sauve and blesse,
Koude yif hir list bere here of witnesse:
Wordes, strookes vnhappe, and harde grace
With sharp[e] nayles kracching in þe face.
I mene þus, whane þe distaff is brooke,
With þeyre fistes wyves wol be wrooke.
Blessed þoo men þat cane in suche offence
Meekly souffre, take al in pacyence,
Tendure suche wyfly purgatorye.
Heven for þeyre meede, to regne þer in glorye,
God graunt al housbandes þat beon in þis place,
To wynne so heven for His hooly grace.
Nexst in ordre, þis bochier stoute and bolde
Þat killed haþe bulles and boores olde,
Þis Berthilmewe, 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.
Þoughe his bely were rounded lyche an ooke
She wolde not fayle to gyf þe first[e] strooke;
For proude Pernelle, lyche a chaumpyoun,
Wolde leve hir puddinges in a gret cawdroun,
678
But with hir skumour reeche him on þe heued.
Shee wolde paye him; and make no delaye,
Bid him goo pleye him a twenty deuel wey.
She was no cowarde founde at suche a neode,
Hir fist ful offt made his cheekis bleed;
What querell euer þat he agenst hir sette,
She cast hir not to dyen in his dette.
She made no taylle, but qwytt him by and by;
His quarter sowde, she payde him feythfully,
And his waages, with al hir best entent,
She made þer-of noon assignement.
Eeke Thome Tynker with alle hees pannes olde,
And alle þe wyres of Banebury þat 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 þe distaff came so neer.
Hir name was cleped Tybot Tapister.
To brawle and broyle she nad no maner fer,
To thakke his pilche, stoundemel nowe and þanne,
Thikker þane Thome koude clowten any panne.
Nexst Colle Tyler, ful hevy of his cheer,
Compleyneþe on Phelyce his wyff, þe wafurer.
Al his bred with sugre nys not baake,
Yit on his cheekis some-tyme he haþe a caake
So hoot and nuwe, or he can taken heede,
Þat his heres glowe verray reede,
For a medecyne whane þe forst is colde,
Making his teethe to ratle, þat beon oolde.
Þis is þe compleynt, þat þeos dotardes oolde
Make on þeyre wyves, þat beon so stoute and bolde.
Þeos holy martirs, preued ful pacyent,
Lowly beseching in al hir best entent,
Vn-to Youre Noble Ryal Magestee
To graunte hem fraunchyse and also liberte,
Sith þey beoþe fetird and bounden in maryage,
A sauf-conduyt to sauf him frome damage.
Eeke vnder support of youre hyeghe renoun,
679
Conquest of wyves is ronne thoroughe þis lande,
Cleyming of right to haue þe hyegher hande.
But if you list, of youre regallye,
Þe Olde Testament for to modefye,
And þat yee list asselen þeyre request,
Þat þeos poure husbandes might lyf in rest,
And þat þeyre wyves in þeyre felle might
Wol medle amonge mercy with þeyre right.
For it came neuer of nature ne raysoun,
A lyonesse toppresse þe lyoun,
Ner a wolfesse, for al hir thyraunye,
Ouer þe wolf to haven þe maystrye.
Þer beon nowe wolfesses moo þane twoo or three,
Þe bookys recorde wheeche þat yonder bee.
Seoþe to þis mater of mercy and of grace,
And or þees dotardes parte out of þis place,
Vpon þeyre compleynt to shape remedye,
Or þey beo likly to stande in iupardye.
It is no game with wyves for to pleye,
But for foolis, þat gif no force to deye!
Takeþe heed of þaunswer of þe wyves.
Touching þe substance of þis hyeghe discorde,
We six wyves beon ful of oon acorde,
Yif worde and chyding may vs not avaylle,
We wol darrein it in chaumpcloos by bataylle.
Iupart oure right, laate or ellys raathe.
And for oure partye þe worthy Wyff of Bathe
Cane shewe statutes moo þan six or seven,
Howe wyves make hir housbandes wynne heven,
Maugre þe feonde and al his vyolence;
For þeyre vertu of parfyte pacyence
Parteneþe not to wyves nowe-adayes,
Sauf on þeyre housbandes for to make assayes.
Þer pacyence was buryed long agoo,
Gresyldes story recordeþe pleinly soo.
It longeþe to vs to clappen as a mylle,
No counseyle keepe, but þe trouth oute telle;
We beo not borne by hevenly influence
Of oure nature to keepe vs in sylence.
For þis is no doute, euery prudent wyff
Haþe redy aunswere in al suche maner stryff.
Þoughe þeos dotardes with þeyre dokked berdes,
Which strowteþe out as þey were made of herdes,
Haue ageyn hus a gret quarell nowe sette,
I trowe þe bakoun was neuer of hem fette,
Awaye at Dounmowe in þe Pryorye.
Þey weene of vs to haue ay þe maystrye;
Ellas! þeos fooles, let hem aunswere here-to;
Whoo cane hem wasshe, who can hem wring alsoo?
Wryng hem, yee, wryng, so als God vs speed,
Til þat some tyme we make hir nases bleed,
And sowe hir clooþes whane þey beoþe to-rent,
And clowte hir bakkes til somme of vs beo shent;
Loo, yit þeos fooles, God gyf hem sory chaunce,
Wolde sette hir wyves vnder gouuernaunce,
Make vs to hem for to lowte lowe;
We knowe to weel þe bent of Iackys bowe.
Al þat we clayme, we clayme it but of right.
Yif þey say nay, let preve it out by ffight.
We wil vs grounde not vpon wommanhede.
Fy on hem, cowardes! When hit komeþe to nede,
We clayme maystrye by prescripcyoun,
Be long tytle of successyoun,
Frome wyff to wyff, which we wol not leese.
Men may weel gruchche but þey shal not cheese.
Custume is vs for nature and vsaunce
To set oure housbandes lyf in gret noysaunce.
Humbelly byseching nowe at oon worde
Vnto oure Liege and Moost Souerein Lord,
Vs to defende of his regallye,
And of his grace susteenen oure partye,
Requering þe statuyt of olde antiquytee
Þat in youre tyme it may confermed bee.
We six wyves beon ful of oon acorde,
Yif worde and chyding may vs not avaylle,
We wol darrein it in chaumpcloos by bataylle.
Iupart oure right, laate or ellys raathe.
And for oure partye þe worthy Wyff of Bathe
Cane shewe statutes moo þan six or seven,
Howe wyves make hir housbandes wynne heven,
Maugre þe feonde and al his vyolence;
For þeyre vertu of parfyte pacyence
Parteneþe not to wyves nowe-adayes,
Sauf on þeyre housbandes for to make assayes.
Þer pacyence was buryed long agoo,
Gresyldes story recordeþe pleinly soo.
680
No counseyle keepe, but þe trouth oute telle;
We beo not borne by hevenly influence
Of oure nature to keepe vs in sylence.
For þis is no doute, euery prudent wyff
Haþe redy aunswere in al suche maner stryff.
Þoughe þeos dotardes with þeyre dokked berdes,
Which strowteþe out as þey were made of herdes,
Haue ageyn hus a gret quarell nowe sette,
I trowe þe bakoun was neuer of hem fette,
Awaye at Dounmowe in þe Pryorye.
Þey weene of vs to haue ay þe maystrye;
Ellas! þeos fooles, let hem aunswere here-to;
Whoo cane hem wasshe, who can hem wring alsoo?
Wryng hem, yee, wryng, so als God vs speed,
Til þat some tyme we make hir nases bleed,
And sowe hir clooþes whane þey beoþe to-rent,
And clowte hir bakkes til somme of vs beo shent;
Loo, yit þeos fooles, God gyf hem sory chaunce,
Wolde sette hir wyves vnder gouuernaunce,
Make vs to hem for to lowte lowe;
We knowe to weel þe bent of Iackys bowe.
Al þat we clayme, we clayme it but of right.
Yif þey say nay, let preve it out by ffight.
We wil vs grounde not vpon wommanhede.
Fy on hem, cowardes! When hit komeþe to nede,
We clayme maystrye by prescripcyoun,
Be long tytle of successyoun,
Frome wyff to wyff, which we wol not leese.
Men may weel gruchche but þey shal not cheese.
Custume is vs for nature and vsaunce
To set oure housbandes lyf in gret noysaunce.
Humbelly byseching nowe at oon worde
Vnto oure Liege and Moost Souerein Lord,
Vs to defende of his regallye,
And of his grace susteenen oure partye,
Requering þe statuyt of olde antiquytee
Þat in youre tyme it may confermed bee.
681
Þe complaynte of þe lewed housbandes with þe cruwell
aunswers of þeyre wyves herde, þe kyng yiveþe
þer-vpon sentence and iugement.
Þis noble Prynce, moost royal of estate,
Having an eyeghe to þis mortal debate,
First aduerting of ful hyeghe prudence,
Wil vnavysed gyve here no sentence,
With-oute counseylle of haste to procede,
By sodeyne doome; for he takeþe heede
To eyþer partye as iuge indifferent,
Seing þe paryll of hasty iugement;
Pourposiþe him in þis contynude stryffe
To gif no sentence þer-of diffynytyff,
Til þer beo made examynacyoun
Of oþer partye, and inquysicyoun.
He considereþe and makeþe Raysoun his guyde,
As egal iuge enclyning to noo syde;
Not-with standing he haþe compassyoun
Of þe poure housbandes trybulacyoun,
So offt arrested with þeyre wyves rokkes,
Which of þeyre distaves haue so many knokkes;
Peysing also, in his regallye,
Þe lawe þat wymmen allegge for þeyre partye,
Custume, nature, and eeke prescripcyoun,
Statuyt vsed by confirmacyoun,
Processe and daate of tyme oute of mynde,
Recorde of cronycles, witnesse of hir kuynde:
Wher-fore þe Kyng wol al þis nexst[e] yeere
Þat wyves fraunchyse stonde hoole and entier,
And þat no man with-stonde it, ne with-drawe,
Til man may fynde some processe oute by lawe,
Þat þey shoulde by nature in þeyre lyves
Haue souerayntee on þeyre prudent wyves,
A thing vnkouþe, which was neuer founde.
Let me be-ware þer-fore or þey beo bounde.
Þe bonde is harde, who-soo þat lookeþe weel;
Some man were leuer fetterd beon in steel,
Raunsoun might help his peyne to aswaage,
But whoo is wedded lyueþe euer in seruage.
And I knowe neuer nowher fer ner neer
Man þat was gladde to bynde him prysonier,
Þoughe þat his prysoun, his castell, or his holde
Wer depeynted with asure or with golde.
Having an eyeghe to þis mortal debate,
First aduerting of ful hyeghe prudence,
Wil vnavysed gyve here no sentence,
With-oute counseylle of haste to procede,
By sodeyne doome; for he takeþe heede
To eyþer partye as iuge indifferent,
Seing þe paryll of hasty iugement;
Pourposiþe him in þis contynude stryffe
To gif no sentence þer-of diffynytyff,
Til þer beo made examynacyoun
Of oþer partye, and inquysicyoun.
He considereþe and makeþe Raysoun his guyde,
As egal iuge enclyning to noo syde;
Not-with standing he haþe compassyoun
Of þe poure housbandes trybulacyoun,
So offt arrested with þeyre wyves rokkes,
Which of þeyre distaves haue so many knokkes;
Peysing also, in his regallye,
Þe lawe þat wymmen allegge for þeyre partye,
Custume, nature, and eeke prescripcyoun,
Statuyt vsed by confirmacyoun,
Processe and daate of tyme oute of mynde,
Recorde of cronycles, witnesse of hir kuynde:
Wher-fore þe Kyng wol al þis nexst[e] yeere
Þat wyves fraunchyse stonde hoole and entier,
And þat no man with-stonde it, ne with-drawe,
Til man may fynde some processe oute by lawe,
Þat þey shoulde by nature in þeyre lyves
Haue souerayntee on þeyre prudent wyves,
A thing vnkouþe, which was neuer founde.
Let me be-ware þer-fore or þey beo bounde.
Þe bonde is harde, who-soo þat lookeþe weel;
Some man were leuer fetterd beon in steel,
Raunsoun might help his peyne to aswaage,
But whoo is wedded lyueþe euer in seruage.
682
Man þat was gladde to bynde him prysonier,
Þoughe þat his prysoun, his castell, or his holde
Wer depeynted with asure or with golde.
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