Ye shoulde be all patient and meek, And have a *sweet y-spiced* conscience, *tender, nice* Since ye so preach of Jobe’s patience. Suffer alway, since ye so well can preach, And but* ye do, certain we shall you teach* *unless That it is fair to have a wife in peace. One of us two must bowe* doubteless: *give way And since a man is more reasonable Than woman is, ye must be suff’rable. What aileth you to grudge* thus and groan? *complain Is it for ye would have my [love] <14> alone? Why, take it all: lo, have it every deal,* *whit Peter! <19> shrew* you but ye love it well *curse For if I woulde sell my *belle chose*, *beautiful thing* I coulde walk as fresh as is a rose, But I will keep it for your owen tooth. Ye be to blame, by God, I say you sooth.” Such manner wordes hadde we on hand. Now will I speaken of my fourth husband. My fourthe husband was a revellour; This is to say, he had a paramour, And I was young and full of ragerie,* *wantonness Stubborn and strong, and jolly as a pie.* *magpie Then could I dance to a harpe smale, And sing, y-wis,* as any nightingale, *certainly When I had drunk a draught of sweete wine. Metellius, the foule churl, the swine, That with a staff bereft his wife of life For she drank wine, though I had been his wife, Never should he have daunted me from drink: And, after wine, of Venus most I think. For all so sure as cold engenders hail, A liquorish mouth must have a liquorish tail. In woman vinolent* is no defence,** *full of wine *resistance This knowe lechours by experience. But, lord Christ, when that it rememb’reth me Upon my youth, and on my jollity, It tickleth me about mine hearte-root; Unto this day it doth mine hearte boot,* *good That I have had my world as in my time. But age, alas! that all will envenime,* *poison, embitter Hath me bereft my beauty and my pith:* *vigour Let go; farewell; the devil go therewith. The flour is gon, there is no more to tell, The bran, as I best may, now must I sell. But yet to be right merry will I fand.* *try Now forth to tell you of my fourth husband, I say, I in my heart had great despite, That he of any other had delight; But he was quit,* by God and by Saint Joce:<21> *requited, paid back I made for him of the same wood a cross; Not of my body in no foul mannere, But certainly I made folk such cheer, That in his owen grease I made him fry For anger, and for very jealousy. By God, in earth I was his purgatory, For which I hope his soul may be in glory. For, God it wot, he sat full oft and sung, When that his shoe full bitterly him wrung.* *pinched There was no wight, save God and he, that wist