 | Maid Emlyn |  |
Here is the boke of mayd Emlyn that had .v. husbandes and all kockoldes she wold make theyr berdes whether they wold or no/and gyue them to were a praty hoode full of belles.
Wyll
ye here of meruaylles
Drawne out of gospelles
Of mayde Emlynne
That had husbandes fyue
And all dyd neuer thryue
She coude so well spynne
Louynge to go gaye
And seldom for to praye
For she was borne in Lynne
Ofte wolde she seke
The tauernes in the weke
Tyll her wytte was thynne
Full swetely wolde she kys
With galauntes ywys
And say it was no synne
Thus collynge in armes
Some men caught harmes
Full lytell dyd they wynne
And if her husbande sayd ought
Loke what she sonest cought
At his heed she wolde it flynge
She wolde saye lorell thou
I wyll teche the I trowe
Of thy language to blynne
It is pyte that a knaue
A prety woman sholde haue
That knoweth not golde from tynne
I trowe thou Ialouse be
Bytwene my cosyn and me
That is called syr Sym
Thoughe I go ofte thyder
We do nought togyder
But prycked balades synge
And I so cunnynge be
The more worshyp is to the
Gyuynge thanke to hym
For he me fyrste taught
So I my cunnynge caught
Whan I wente a brosshynge
With suche wordes douse
This lytell prety mouse
The yonge lusty prymme
She coude byte and whyne
Whan she sawe her tyme
And with a prety gynne
Gyue her husbande an horne
To blowe with on the morne
Beshrowe her whyte skynne
And ofte wolde she sleke
To make smothe her cheke
With redde roses therin
Than wolde she mete
With her lemman swete
And cutte with hym
Talkynge for theyr pleasure
That cocke with the fether
Is gone an huntynge
Hymselfe all alone
To the wode he is gone
To here the kockowe synge
Thus with her playfere
Maketh she mery chere
The husbande knoweth nothynge
She gyueth money plente
Bycause newe loue is daynte
Unto her swetynge
And prayeth ofte to come
To playe there as shyneth no sonne
So at the nexte metynge
She gyueth her husbande a prycke
That made hym double quycke
So good was the gretynge
Kocke called of the bone
That neuer was mayster at home
But as an vnderlynge
His wyfe made hym so wyse
That he wolde tourne a peny twyse
And than he called it a ferthynge
Nothynge byleued he
But that he dyd with his eyes se
Full trewe was his meanynge
She cherysshed hym with brede and chese
That his lyfe he dyd lese
Than made she mournynge
And dranke deuoutly for his soule
The handbell ofte dyd she colle
Full great sorowe makynge
This sory wydowe
But a whyle I trowe
Mournynge dyd make
Whan he was gone
A yonge lusty one
She dyd than take
Longe wolde she not tary
Lest she dyd myscary
But full ofte spake
To hast the weddynge
And all for beddynge
Some sporte to make
Her herte to ease
And the flesshe to please
Sorowes to aslake
In it out Ioyenge
That wanton playenge
For the olde husbandes sake
Yet by your leue
A frere dyd she gyue
Of her loue a flake
And sayd in her ouen
At any maner of season
That he sholde bake
There is rome ynowe
For other and for you
And space to set a cake
Drawne out of gospelles
Of mayde Emlynne
That had husbandes fyue
And all dyd neuer thryue
She coude so well spynne
Louynge to go gaye
And seldom for to praye
For she was borne in Lynne
Ofte wolde she seke
The tauernes in the weke
Tyll her wytte was thynne
Full swetely wolde she kys
With galauntes ywys
And say it was no synne
Thus collynge in armes
Some men caught harmes
Full lytell dyd they wynne
And if her husbande sayd ought
Loke what she sonest cought
At his heed she wolde it flynge
She wolde saye lorell thou
I wyll teche the I trowe
Of thy language to blynne
It is pyte that a knaue
A prety woman sholde haue
That knoweth not golde from tynne
I trowe thou Ialouse be
Bytwene my cosyn and me
That is called syr Sym
We do nought togyder
But prycked balades synge
And I so cunnynge be
The more worshyp is to the
Gyuynge thanke to hym
For he me fyrste taught
So I my cunnynge caught
Whan I wente a brosshynge
With suche wordes douse
This lytell prety mouse
The yonge lusty prymme
She coude byte and whyne
Whan she sawe her tyme
And with a prety gynne
Gyue her husbande an horne
To blowe with on the morne
Beshrowe her whyte skynne
And ofte wolde she sleke
To make smothe her cheke
With redde roses therin
Than wolde she mete
With her lemman swete
And cutte with hym
Talkynge for theyr pleasure
That cocke with the fether
Is gone an huntynge
Hymselfe all alone
To the wode he is gone
To here the kockowe synge
Maketh she mery chere
The husbande knoweth nothynge
She gyueth money plente
Bycause newe loue is daynte
Unto her swetynge
And prayeth ofte to come
To playe there as shyneth no sonne
So at the nexte metynge
She gyueth her husbande a prycke
That made hym double quycke
So good was the gretynge
Kocke called of the bone
That neuer was mayster at home
But as an vnderlynge
His wyfe made hym so wyse
That he wolde tourne a peny twyse
And than he called it a ferthynge
Nothynge byleued he
But that he dyd with his eyes se
Full trewe was his meanynge
She cherysshed hym with brede and chese
That his lyfe he dyd lese
Than made she mournynge
And dranke deuoutly for his soule
The handbell ofte dyd she colle
Full great sorowe makynge
This sory wydowe
But a whyle I trowe
Mournynge dyd make
A yonge lusty one
She dyd than take
Longe wolde she not tary
Lest she dyd myscary
But full ofte spake
To hast the weddynge
And all for beddynge
Some sporte to make
Her herte to ease
And the flesshe to please
Sorowes to aslake
In it out Ioyenge
That wanton playenge
For the olde husbandes sake
Yet by your leue
A frere dyd she gyue
Of her loue a flake
And sayd in her ouen
At any maner of season
That he sholde bake
There is rome ynowe
For other and for you
And space to set a cake
The seconde husbande Nycoll
That pore sely soule
Myght not escape
A kockolde to dye
It was his destenye
As man vnfortunate
His wyfe vndeuoute
Ofte wolde go aboute
And steppe ouer many a lake
Makynge bost in her mode
That her husbande can no more good
Than can an vntaught ape
Thus by her scole
Made hym a fole
And called hym dodypate
So from his thryfte
She dyd hym lyfte
And therof creste the date
She made hym sadde
And sayd he was badde
Croked legged lyke a stake
She lyked not his face
And sayd he mouthed was
Moost lyke an hawke
This good man ease
Was lothe to dysplease
But yet thought somwhat
Thynkynge in his mynde
That a man can fynde
A wyfe neuer to late
For of theyr properte
Shrewes all they be
And slyle can they prate
All women be suche
Thoughe the man bere the breche
They wyll be euer checkemate
Faced lyke an aungell
Tonged lyke a deuyll of hell
Great causers of debate
They loke full smothe
And be false of loue
Uenymous as a snake
Desyrynge to be praysed
A lofte to be raysed
As an hyghe estate
And these wanton dames
Ofte chaungeth theyr names
As An/Iane/Besse and Kate.
Thus thynketh he
In his mynde pryuely
And nought dare saye
For he that is maysterfast
Full ofte is agast
And dare not ronne and playe
If she be gladde
Than is he sadde
And fere of a sodayne fraye
For womans pryde
Is to laughe and chyde
Euery houre in a daye
Whan she dothe loure
And begynneth to snowre
Pyteously dothe he saye
What do ye lacke
Ony thynge swete herte
That I to you gyue maye
She answered hym
With wordes grotchynge
Wysshynge her selfe in claye
And sayth that she lackes
Many prety knackes
As bedes and gyrdels gaye
And the best sporte
That sholde me comforte
Whiche is a swete playe
I can it not haue
For so god me saue
Thy power is not to paye
There is nought
Nought may be cought
I can no more saye
Many men nowe here
Can not women chere
But maketh ofte delay
The wyfe dothe mone
It is not at home
And boroweth tyll a daye
What it is I trowe
Well ynoughe ye knowe
It is no nede to saye
Thus saye the wyues
If theyr husbandes thryues
That they the causers be
They gete two wayes
Bothe with worke and playes
By theyr huswyuery
With theyr swete lyppes
And lusty hyppes
They worke so plesauntly
Some wyll fall anone
For they be not stronge
They be weyke in the kne
Be they pore or be they ryche
I beshrewe all suche
A men nowe saye ye
They thynke it is as great almes
As to saye the seuen psalmes
And dothe it for charyte
To gete gownes and furs
These nysebeceturs
Of men sheweth theyr pyte
Somtyme for theyr lust
Haue it they must
Or seke wyll they be
If it do stycke
And she fele it quycke
Full slyle dothe she
Begyn for to grone
And wyssheth she had lyne alone
What ayleth you than sayth he
She saythe syr I am with chylde
It is yours by Mary mylde
And so he weneth it be
Whan played is the playe
Iacke the husbande must paye
This dayly may ye se
He was gladde ywys
Of that that is not his
And dothe it vp kepe
She that dothe mocke hym
Another mannes concubyne
And his chylde eke
Lo thus dothe landes
Fall in wronge ayres handes
The causers may well wepe
And worse dothe happen truely
The broder the syster dothe mary
And in bedde togyther slepe
To synne lyghtely wyll the chylde drawe
That is bekoten without lawe
Wedlocke is veray swete
But ones for all
The daye come shall
The crye shall be welawaye
Of all wedlocke brekers
Thus saythe greate prechers
Theyr dettes shall they truely paye
All they that dothe offende
God graunte them to amende
And therfore lette vs praye.
That pore sely soule
Myght not escape
A kockolde to dye
It was his destenye
As man vnfortunate
Ofte wolde go aboute
And steppe ouer many a lake
Makynge bost in her mode
That her husbande can no more good
Than can an vntaught ape
Thus by her scole
Made hym a fole
And called hym dodypate
So from his thryfte
She dyd hym lyfte
And therof creste the date
She made hym sadde
And sayd he was badde
Croked legged lyke a stake
She lyked not his face
And sayd he mouthed was
Moost lyke an hawke
This good man ease
Was lothe to dysplease
But yet thought somwhat
Thynkynge in his mynde
That a man can fynde
A wyfe neuer to late
For of theyr properte
Shrewes all they be
And slyle can they prate
All women be suche
Thoughe the man bere the breche
They wyll be euer checkemate
Tonged lyke a deuyll of hell
Great causers of debate
They loke full smothe
And be false of loue
Uenymous as a snake
Desyrynge to be praysed
A lofte to be raysed
As an hyghe estate
And these wanton dames
Ofte chaungeth theyr names
As An/Iane/Besse and Kate.
Thus thynketh he
In his mynde pryuely
And nought dare saye
For he that is maysterfast
Full ofte is agast
And dare not ronne and playe
If she be gladde
Than is he sadde
And fere of a sodayne fraye
For womans pryde
Is to laughe and chyde
Euery houre in a daye
Whan she dothe loure
And begynneth to snowre
Pyteously dothe he saye
What do ye lacke
Ony thynge swete herte
That I to you gyue maye
With wordes grotchynge
Wysshynge her selfe in claye
And sayth that she lackes
Many prety knackes
As bedes and gyrdels gaye
And the best sporte
That sholde me comforte
Whiche is a swete playe
I can it not haue
For so god me saue
Thy power is not to paye
There is nought
Nought may be cought
I can no more saye
Many men nowe here
Can not women chere
But maketh ofte delay
The wyfe dothe mone
It is not at home
And boroweth tyll a daye
What it is I trowe
Well ynoughe ye knowe
It is no nede to saye
Thus saye the wyues
If theyr husbandes thryues
That they the causers be
They gete two wayes
Bothe with worke and playes
By theyr huswyuery
And lusty hyppes
They worke so plesauntly
Some wyll fall anone
For they be not stronge
They be weyke in the kne
Be they pore or be they ryche
I beshrewe all suche
A men nowe saye ye
They thynke it is as great almes
As to saye the seuen psalmes
And dothe it for charyte
To gete gownes and furs
These nysebeceturs
Of men sheweth theyr pyte
Somtyme for theyr lust
Haue it they must
Or seke wyll they be
If it do stycke
And she fele it quycke
Full slyle dothe she
Begyn for to grone
And wyssheth she had lyne alone
What ayleth you than sayth he
She saythe syr I am with chylde
It is yours by Mary mylde
And so he weneth it be
Whan played is the playe
Iacke the husbande must paye
This dayly may ye se
Of that that is not his
And dothe it vp kepe
She that dothe mocke hym
Another mannes concubyne
And his chylde eke
Lo thus dothe landes
Fall in wronge ayres handes
The causers may well wepe
And worse dothe happen truely
The broder the syster dothe mary
And in bedde togyther slepe
To synne lyghtely wyll the chylde drawe
That is bekoten without lawe
Wedlocke is veray swete
But ones for all
The daye come shall
The crye shall be welawaye
Of all wedlocke brekers
Thus saythe greate prechers
Theyr dettes shall they truely paye
All they that dothe offende
God graunte them to amende
And therfore lette vs praye.
But nowe of Emlyne to speke.
And more of her to treate
Truely for to saye
Whan the seconde husbande was dede
The thyrde husbande dyde she wedde
In full goodly araye
But as the deuyll wolde
Or the pyes were colde
Fell a sodayne fraye
Moyses had a newe brother
It wolde be none other
And all came thorughe playe
But mayde maydenhode myssynge
Knoweth what longeth to kyssynge
It is no nede to saye
She loued well I trowe
And gaue hym sorowe ynowe
But ones on the daye
With hym wolde she chyde
He durst not loke asyde
The bounde must euer obaye
This man was olde
And of compleccyon colde
Nothynge lusty to playe
She was full ranke
And of condycyons cranke
And redy was alwaye
In Uenus toyes
Was all her Ioyes
Seldome sayde she naye
At the laste she thought
That her husbande was nought
And purposed on a daye
To shorten his lyfe
And as a true wyfe
She wolde it not delaye
To fulfyll her lust
In a well she hym thrust
Without any fraye
And made countenaunce sad
As thoughe she be sory had
Also in good faye
A reed onyon wolde she kepe
To make her eyes wepe
In her kerchers I saye
She was than stedfast and stronge
And kepte her a wydowe veraye longe
In faythe almoost two dayes
Bycause she made greate mone
She wolde not lye longe alone
For fere of sodayne frayes
Leste her housbande dede
Wolde come to her bedde
Thus in her mynde she sayes.
And more of her to treate
Truely for to saye
Whan the seconde husbande was dede
The thyrde husbande dyde she wedde
In full goodly araye
Or the pyes were colde
Fell a sodayne fraye
Moyses had a newe brother
It wolde be none other
And all came thorughe playe
But mayde maydenhode myssynge
Knoweth what longeth to kyssynge
It is no nede to saye
She loued well I trowe
And gaue hym sorowe ynowe
But ones on the daye
With hym wolde she chyde
He durst not loke asyde
The bounde must euer obaye
This man was olde
And of compleccyon colde
Nothynge lusty to playe
She was full ranke
And of condycyons cranke
And redy was alwaye
In Uenus toyes
Was all her Ioyes
Seldome sayde she naye
At the laste she thought
That her husbande was nought
And purposed on a daye
To shorten his lyfe
And as a true wyfe
She wolde it not delaye
In a well she hym thrust
Without any fraye
And made countenaunce sad
As thoughe she be sory had
Also in good faye
A reed onyon wolde she kepe
To make her eyes wepe
In her kerchers I saye
She was than stedfast and stronge
And kepte her a wydowe veraye longe
In faythe almoost two dayes
Bycause she made greate mone
She wolde not lye longe alone
For fere of sodayne frayes
Leste her housbande dede
Wolde come to her bedde
Thus in her mynde she sayes.
The fourthe housbande she cought
That was lyke her nexte nought
For he vsed his playes
With maydens wyues and nonnes
None amysse to hym commes
Lyke they be of layes
Hym she lyked yll
She prayed the fende hym kyll
Bycause he vsed her wayes
This mannes name was harry
He coude full clene cary
He loued prety gayes
So it happened at the last
An halfepeny halter made hym fast
And therin he swayes
Than she toke greate thought
As a woman that careth nought
So for his soule she prayes
And bycause she was seke
She wedded the same weke
For very pure pyte and wo
Yet or she was wedded
Thryse had she bedded
And great hast made therto
The husbande had sone ynowe
But Emlyn bended her browe
And thought she had not so
But to ease her louer
She toke another
That lustely coude do
One that yonge was
That coude ofte her baste
Whiche she had fantesy to
He coude well awaye
With her lusty playe
And neuer wolde haue do
Bycause he coude clepe her
She called hym a whypper
And as they were togyder
They bothe swetely played
A sergeaunt them afrayed
And sayd they were full queuer
They were than full wo
The frere welde ben a go
He cursed that he came thyder
Whether they were leue or lothe
He set them in the stockes bothe
He wolde none dysceyuer
In myddes of the market
Full well was set
In full fayre wether
For it dyd hayle and thonder
On them many men dyd wonder
But Emlyne laughed euer
She thought it but a Iape
To se men at her gape
Therof she shamed neuer
And sayd for her sportynge
It is but for Iapynge
That we be brought hyder
It is nother treason nor felony
But a knacke of company
And dye had I leuer
Than it forsake
For I wyll mery make
Whyle youthe hathe fayre wether
Whan her husbande it knewe
Sore dyd he it rewe
And was so heuy and wo
He toke a surfet with a cup
That made hym tourne his heles vp
And than was he a go
And whan she was at large
Care she dyde dyscharge
And in her mynde thought tho
Nowe wyll I haue my luste
With all them that wyll Iuste
In spyte of them that saythe so
And bycause she loued rydynge
At the stewes was her abydynge
Without wordes mo
And all that wolde entre
She durst on them ventre
Ueray gentyll she was lo
And longe or she were dede
She wente to begge her brede
Suche fortune had she tho
God dyd bete her surely
With the rodde of pouerte
Or she dyde hens go
Than she dyed as ye shall
But what of her dyde befall
Naye there do Iho
But they that rede this erly or late
I praye Iesu theyr soules take
Amen saye ye also.
That was lyke her nexte nought
For he vsed his playes
With maydens wyues and nonnes
None amysse to hym commes
Lyke they be of layes
Hym she lyked yll
She prayed the fende hym kyll
Bycause he vsed her wayes
This mannes name was harry
He coude full clene cary
He loued prety gayes
An halfepeny halter made hym fast
And therin he swayes
Than she toke greate thought
As a woman that careth nought
So for his soule she prayes
And bycause she was seke
She wedded the same weke
For very pure pyte and wo
Yet or she was wedded
Thryse had she bedded
And great hast made therto
The husbande had sone ynowe
But Emlyn bended her browe
And thought she had not so
But to ease her louer
She toke another
That lustely coude do
One that yonge was
That coude ofte her baste
Whiche she had fantesy to
He coude well awaye
With her lusty playe
And neuer wolde haue do
Bycause he coude clepe her
She called hym a whypper
And as they were togyder
They bothe swetely played
A sergeaunt them afrayed
And sayd they were full queuer
The frere welde ben a go
He cursed that he came thyder
Whether they were leue or lothe
He set them in the stockes bothe
He wolde none dysceyuer
In myddes of the market
Full well was set
In full fayre wether
For it dyd hayle and thonder
On them many men dyd wonder
But Emlyne laughed euer
She thought it but a Iape
To se men at her gape
Therof she shamed neuer
And sayd for her sportynge
It is but for Iapynge
That we be brought hyder
It is nother treason nor felony
But a knacke of company
And dye had I leuer
Than it forsake
For I wyll mery make
Whyle youthe hathe fayre wether
Whan her husbande it knewe
Sore dyd he it rewe
And was so heuy and wo
He toke a surfet with a cup
That made hym tourne his heles vp
And than was he a go
Care she dyde dyscharge
And in her mynde thought tho
Nowe wyll I haue my luste
With all them that wyll Iuste
In spyte of them that saythe so
And bycause she loued rydynge
At the stewes was her abydynge
Without wordes mo
And all that wolde entre
She durst on them ventre
Ueray gentyll she was lo
And longe or she were dede
She wente to begge her brede
Suche fortune had she tho
God dyd bete her surely
With the rodde of pouerte
Or she dyde hens go
Than she dyed as ye shall
But what of her dyde befall
Naye there do Iho
But they that rede this erly or late
I praye Iesu theyr soules take
Amen saye ye also.
Finis.
| Maid Emlyn | |