She must not ruin her husband with extravagance, nor must she borrow. She must not spare the rod if her children “been rebel.” As soon as her daughters are born she will begin to collect things for them against their marriage—this leads us to think that the wife was expected to contribute part at least of the furniture of the house: or was it a _dot_ that was gathered and stored up for the girl? That is enough; the good mother supposes the life of a housewife, able to work herself if need be, _i.e._ work of making and sewing, embroidering, brewing, cooking, and all kinds of household work; obedient to church and husband; a fond mother, a good manager. There is not a single word said of books or of learning, of reading or of writing—was the _bourgeoise_ not taught to read and write? I do not know. But I imagine, remembering the custom later on, that the woman was taught to read, but that she seldom had any occasion to use that accomplishment. Nothing, again, is said of any amusements, we are not in the gardens of the Castle, we are in a City street, the house is one of a cluster, each house facing a different way, perhaps, gabled, the storeys projecting one above the other, we look out across the narrow street upon another house like this. At the back is a small garden, the doors are all open and the housewives come out and talk to each other about the prices of everything, which have gone up horribly within the memory of people still young; within, the maids and the daughters work and whisper. The rod hangs upon the wall for those who talk and do not work. “Now have I thee taught, daughter, as my modir dide me Think thereon nyght and day, forgete that it not be: Have mesure and lownes, as I have thee taught, And what man thee wedde schal, him dare care nought. Better were a child unbore Than untaught of wise lore Mi leve child.” We learn, from the frequent practice of bequeathing a dowry, that it was customary to endow a girl with a marriage portion. Thus in 1341 Richard atte Gate leaves his daughter Agnes ten pounds of silver for her marriage; in 1342 Nicholas Crane, fishmonger, leaves Amina his niece £20 sterling for her marriage portion, a robe valued at 20s., and divers household stuffs. In 1340 Lucy Wycombe leaves her daughter Johanna certain rents in Eastcheap, certain household goods, and a letter patent of the King worth £100, all for her dowry. In 1344 Philip Swift leaves an annuity to hand out of his estate to Juliana his daughter for her marriage. If a girl, the daughter of a citizen, was left an orphan, the right of giving her in marriage belonged to the Mayor and Commonalty. It was held to be greatly meritorious for a widow to make a solemn vow of chastity in honour of her deceased husband. Such an act had to be first allowed by the Bishop before whom the widow was led, and after the celebration of mass she made her vow in these words:—