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John heywoodes woorkes

A dialogue conteynyng the number of the effectuall prouerbes in the Englishe tongue, compact in a matter concernynge two maner of maryages. With one hundred of Epigrammes: and three hundred of Epigrammes upon three hundred prouerbes: and a fifth hundred of Epigrammes. Whereunto are now newly added a syxt hundred of Epigrams by the sayde John Heywood

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The .vii. chapiter.
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The .vii. chapiter.

VVell saide (saide he) mary sir here is a tale,
For honestie, meete to set the diuell on sale.
But now am I forst, a bead roule to vnfolde,
To tell somwhat more to the tale I erst tolde.
Grow this. as most part doth, I durst holde my lyfe,
Of the ielousy of dame Iulok my wyfe,
Than shall ye wonder, whan truth doth defyne,
How she can, and doth here, both byte and whyne.
Fransy, heresy, and ielousy are three,
That men say hardly or neuer cured bee.
And although ielousy neede not or boote not,
What helpeth that counsayle, if reason roote not.
And in mad ielousy she is so farre gon,
She thinkth I run ouer all, that I looke on.
Take good heede of that (quoth I) for at a woorde,
The prouerbe saith, he that striketh with the swoorde,
Shalbe strikyn with the scaberde. Tushe (quoth he)
The diule with my scaberde will not strike me.
But my dame takyng suspicion for full preefe,
Reporteth it for a trouth, to the moste mischeefe.


In woords golde and hole, as men by wyt could wishe.
She will lie as fast as a dogge will licke a dishe.
She is of trouth as fals, as God is trew.
And if she chaunce to see me at a vew
Kysse any of my maydes alone, but in sporte,
That taketh she in ernest. after Bedlem sorte.
The cow is wood. Her tong ronth on patens.
If it be morne, we haue a payre of matens.
If it be euen, euensong, not Laten nor Greeke,
But Englishe, and like thutas in easter weeke.
She beginneth, first with a cry a leysone.
To whiche she ringth a peale, a larom. suche one,
As folke ring bees with basons. the world runth on wheeles.
But except hir maide shewe a fayre paire of heeles,
She haleth her by the boy rope, tyll hir braines ake.
And bring I home a good dishe. good cheere to make,
What is this (saith she) Good meate (saie I) for yow.
God haue mercy hors, a pyg of mine owne sow.
Thus whan I see, by kindnesse ease renewth not,
And than, that the eie seeth not, the hert rewth not,
And that he must needes go, whom the diuel dooth driue,
Her force forcing me, for mine ease to contriue,
To let her fast and freate alone for me,
I go where mery chat, and good cheere may be.
Muche spend I abrode, whiche at home should be spent,
If she would leaue controllyng, and be content.
There lepte a whityng (quoth she) and lept in streite.
Take a heare from his bearde, and marke this conceite.
He makth you beleue, by lies laide on by lode,
My branlyng at home, makith him banket abrode.
Where his bankets abrode, make me braule at home.
For as in a frost, a mud wall made of lome
Cracketh and crummeth in peeces a sunder,
So melteth his money, to the worlds wonder.


Thus maie ye see, to tourne the cat in the pan,
Or set the cart before the hors, well he can.
He is but little at home, the trewth is so.
And foorth with him, he will not let me go.
And if I come to be mery where he is,
Than is he mad. as ye shall here by this.
Where he with gossyps at a banket late was,
At whiche as vse is, he paide all. but let pas.
I came to be mery. wherwith merily,
Proface. Haue among you blynd harpers (sayde I)
The mo the merier, we all daie here and see.
Ye, but the fewer the better fare (said hee)
Then here were, er I came (quoth I) to many,
Here is but little meate lefte, if there be any.
And it is yll commyng, I haue heard say,
To thend of a shot, and beginnyng of a fray.
Put vp thy purs (quoth he) thou shalt none paie.
And fray here should be none, were thou gone thy way.
Here is, sens thou camst, to many feete a bed.
Welcom when thou goest. thus is thine errand sped.
I come (quoth I) to be one here, if I shall,
It is mery in halle, when berds wag all.
What, byd me welcome pyg. I pray the kys me.
Nay farewell sow (quoth he) our lord blys me
From bassyng of beastes of Beare binder lane.
I haue (quoth I) for fyne suger, faire rats bane.
Many yeres sens, my mother saide to me,
Her elders would saie, it is better to be
An olde mans derlyng, then a yong mans werlyng.
And god knowth. I knew none of this snerlyng
In my olde husbands daies. for as tenderly,
He loued me, as ye loue me sklenderly.
We drew both in one line. Quoth he wold to our lorde
Ye had in that drawyng, hangd both in one corde.


For I neuer meete the at fleshe nor at fishe,
But I haue sure a deade mans head in my dishe.
Whose best and my woorst daie, that wisht might bee,
Was when thou didst bury him and mary mee.
If you (quoth I) long for chaunge in those cases,
Wold to god he and you, had chaunged places.
But best I chaunge place, for here I may be sparde.
And for my kynde commyng, this is my rewarde.
Claw a churle by thars, and he shyteth in my hand.
Knak me that nut. much good doyt you all this band.
Must she not (quoth he) be welcome to vs all,
Among vs all, lettyng suche a farewell fall?
Suche carpenters, such chips. (quoth she) folke tell,
Suche lips, suche lettice. such welcome, such farewell.
Thine owne woords (quoth he) thine owne welcome mard.
Well (saide she) whan so euer we twayne haue iard,
My woords be pried at narowly, I espie.
Ye can see a mote in an other mans iye,
But ye can not see a balke in your owne.
Ye marke my woords, but not that they be growne,
By your reuellous rydyng on euery royle.
Well ny euery day a new mare or a moyle.
As muche vnhonest, as vnprofytable.
Whiche shall bryng vs shortly to be vnable,
To geue a dog a lofe, as I haue oft saide.
Howe be it your pleasure maie no tyme be denayde.
But still you must haue, bothe the fynest meate,
Apparall, and all thing that money maie geate,
Lyke one of fond fancy so fyne and so neate,
That would haue better bread than is made of wheate.
The best is best cheape (quoth he) men saie cleere.
Well (quoth she) a man may by gold to deere.
Ye nother care, nor welny cast what ye paie,
To by the derest for the best alwaie,


Than for your diet who vseth feedyng such,
Eate more than enough, and drink much more to much.
But temprance teacheth this, where he kepeth scoole,
He that knoweth whan he hath enough, is no foole.
Feed by measure, and defie the phisicion.
And in the contrary marke this condicion,
A smyne ouer fatte is cause of his owne bane.
Who seeth nought herein, his wit is in the wane.
But pompous prouision, comth not all, alway
Of glottony, but of pryde sometyme, some say.
But this prouerbe precheth to men haute or hye,
Hewe not to hye, lest the chips fall in thine iye.
Measure is a mery meane, as this doth show,
Not to hye for the pye, nor to lowe for the crow.
The difference betwene staryng and starke blynde.
The wise man at all tymes to folow can fynde.
And ywis an auditour of a meane wit,
Maie soone accompt, though hereafter come not yit,
Yet is he sure be the daie neuer so long,
Euermore at laste they ryng to euensong.
And where ye spend much though ye spent but lickell,
Yet littell and littell the cat eateth the flickell.
Little losse by length maie growe importable.
A mouse in tyme, maie byte a two, a cable.
Thus to ende of all things, be we leefe or lothe,
Yet lo, the pot so long to the water gothe.
Tyll at the laste it comthe home broken.
Fewe woords to the wise suffice to be spoken.
If ye were wise, here were enough (quoth shee)
Here is enough, and to muche, dame (quoth he)
For though this appeere a proper pulpet peece,
Yet whan the fox preacheth, then beware your geese.
A good tale yll tolde, in the tellyng is marde.
So are (quoth she) good tales well tolde, and yll harde.


Thy tales (quoth he) shew long heare, and short wit, wife.
But long be thy legs, and short be thy lyfe.
Pray for your selfe, I am not sicke (quoth she)
Well lets see, what thy last tale comth to (quoth he)
Thou saiest I spend all, to this, thy woords wander.
But as deepe drinketh the goose, as the gander.
Thou canst cough in the aumbry, if neede bee,
Whan I shall cough without bread or broth for thee.
Wherby while thou sendst me abrode to spende.
Thou gossepst at home, to meete me at lands ende.
Ah, than I begyle you (quoth she) this ye meane.
But syr, my pot is whole, and my water cleane.
Well, thou woldst haue me (quoth he) pinch lyke a snudge,
Euery daie to be thy driuell and drudge.
Not so (quoth she) but I would haue ye stur
Honestly, to kepe the wolfe from the dur.
I wold driue the wulfe out at doore fyrst (quoth he)
And that can I not doo, tyll I dryue out thee.
A man were better be drownde in Uenice gulfe
Than haue suche a bearded beare, or suche a wulfe.
But had I not beene witcht, my weddyng to flee,
The termes that longe to weddyng had warnde mee.
First wooyng for woing, banna for bannyng.
The banes for my bane, and than this thus scannyng,
Mariyng marryng. And what maryed I than?
A woman. As who saith, wo to the man.
Thus wed I with wo, wed I Gyll, wed I Iane.
I pray god the deuel go with the, downe the lane.
I graunt (quoth she) this dooth sound (as ye agreed)
On your syde in woords, but on my syde in deede.
Thou grantst this graunt (quoth he) without any grace,
Ungraciously, to thy syde, to tourne this case.
Leaue this (quoth she) and learne liberalitee,
To stynt stryfe, growne by your prodigalitee,


Oft said she wise man, whom I erst did bery,
Better are meales many, than one to mery.
Well (quoth he) that is answered with this wife.
Better is one monthes cheere, than a churles hole lyfe.
I thinke it learnyng of a wyser lectour,
To learne to make my selfe myne owne exectour,
Than spare for an other that might wed thee,
As the foole, thy fyrst husband spared for mee.
And as for yll places, thou sekest me in mo,
And in woorse to, than I into any go.
Wherby this prouerbe shewth the in by the weeke.
No man will an other in the ouen seeke,
Except that him selfe haue beene there before.
God geue grace thou hast beene good, I saie no more.
And wolde haue the say lesse. except thou couldst proue
Suche processe as thou sclanderously doest moue.
For sclaunder perchaunce (quoth she) I not denie.
It maie be a sclaunder, but it is no lie.
It is a lye (quoth he) and thou a lyer.
Will ye (quoth she) dryue me to touche ye nyer?
I rub the gald hors backe till he winche, and yit
He would make it seeme, that I touche him no whit.
But I wot what I wot, though I few woords make.
Many kisse the childe for the nurses sake.
Ye haue many god children to looke vpon,
And ye blesse them all, but ye basse but one.
This halfe shewth, what the hole meaneth, that I meene,
Ye fet circumquaques to make me beleue
Or thinke, that the moone is made of a greene cheese.
And whan ye haue made me a loute in all theese,
It semeth ye wolde make me go to bed at noone.
Naie (quoth he) the daie of doome shall be doone,
Er thou go to bed at noone or night for mee.
Thou art, to be plaine, and not to flatter thee,


As holsome a morsell for my comely cors.
As a shoulder of mutton for a sicke hors.
The diuell with his dam, hath more rest in hell,
Than I haue here with the. but well wif well.
Well well (quoth she) many wels, many buckets.
Ye (quoth he) and many woords, many buffets.
Had you some husband, and snapte at him thus,
Iwys he would geue you a recumbentibus.
A dog will barke er he bite, and so thow,
After thy barkyng wilt bite me, I trow now.
But it is harde to make an olde dog stoupe, lo.
Sir (quoth she) a man maie handle his dog so,
That he maie make him byte him, though he would not,
Husbandes are in heauen (quoth he) whose wiues scold not.
Thou makest me claw where it itcheth not. I would
Thy toung were coold to make thy tales more cold,
That aspine leafe, suche spitefull clappyng haue bred.
That my cap is better at ease then my hed.
God sende that hed (said she) a better nurs.
For whan the head aketh, all the bodie is the wurs.
God graunt (quoth I) the head and bodie both twoo.
To nourse eche other, better then they doo.
Or euer haue doone for the moste tymes paste.
I brought to nurs both (quoth she) had it not beene waste.
Margery good coowe (quoth he) gaue a good meele,
But than she cast it downe again with hir heele.
Howe can hir purs for profite be delitefull?
Whose person and properties be thus spitefull.
A peece of a kyd is woorth two of a cat.
Who the diuell will chaunge a rabet for a rat?
If I might chaunge, I wolde rather choose to begge,
Or sit with a rosted appull, or an egge,
Where mine appetite serueth me to bee,
Then euery daie to fare lyke a duke with thee.


Lyke a duke, lyke a duck (quoth she) thou shalt fare,
Except thou wilt spare, more than thou dost yet spare.
Thou farest to well (quoth he) but thou art so wood,
Thou knowst not who doth the harme, who doth the good.
Yes yes (quoth she) for all those wyse woords vttred,
I know on which syde my bread is buttred.
But there will no butter cleaue on my breade.
And on my bread any butter to be spreade.
Euery promise that thou therin dost vtter,
Is as sure as it were sealed with butter.
Or a mouse tied with a threede. Euery good thyng,
Thou lettest euen slyp, lyke a waghalter flypstryng.
But take vp in time, or els I protest,
All be not a bedde, that shall haue yll rest.
Now go to thy derlyngs, and declare thy greefe.
Where all thy pleasure is, hop hoore, pipe theefe.