Nowe folowethe here the maner of a bille by wey of supplicacon putte to the kyng holding his noble feest of Cristmasse in the Castel of Hertford as in a disguysing : of the Rude upplandisshe people compleyning on hir wyves with the boystous aunswere of hir wyves devysed by lydegate at the Request of the Countre Roullour Brys : slayne at Loviers Most noble prynce : With support of your grace, Ther beon entred : in to youre royal place And late coomen in to youre castell, Youre poure lieges, wheche lyke no thing weel. Nowe in the vigyle of this nuwe yeere Certayne sweynes, ful [froward of ther chere], Of entent comen, [fallen on ther kne], For to compleyne vn to yuoure magestee Vpon the mescheef of gret aduersytee, Vpon the trouble and the cruweltee 10 Which that they haue endured in theyre lyves By the felnesse of theyre 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 falleth in dotage, And yong folkes, of theyre lymes sklendre, Grene and lusty, and of brawne but tendre, Phylosophres callen in suche aage A Chylde to wyve, a woodnesse or a raage. 20 For they afferme ther is noon eorthly stryff May beo compared to wedding of a wyff, And who that euer stondethe in the cas He with his Rebecke may sing ful oft ellas, Lyke as theos hynes, here stonding oon by oon, He may with hem vpon the daunce goon. Leorne the traas, boothe at even and morowe Of Karycantowe in tourment and in sorowe.... Weyle the while ellas that he was borne. For Obbe, the Reeve, that goothe heere al to forne, 30 He pleynethe sore, his mariage is not meete, For his wyff, Beautryce Bittersweete, Cast vpon him an hougly cheer ful rowghe Whane he komethe home, ful wery frome the ploughe, With hungry stomake, deed and paale of cheere, In hope to fynde redy his dynier. Thanne sittethe Beautryce, bolling at the nale, As she that gyvethe of him no maner tale. For she alday with hir iowsy nolle, Hathe for the collyk pouped in the bolle 40 And for heed aache : with pepir and gynger Dronk dolled ale, to make hir throte cleer, And komethe hir hoome, whane hit drawethe to eve. And thanne Robyn, the cely poure Reeve, Fynde noone amendes of harome ne damage But leene growell, and soupethe cold potage, And of his wyf hathe noone other cheer But cokkrowortes vn to his souper. This is his servyce sitting at the borde, And cely Robyn, yif he speke a worde, 50 Beautryce of him doothe so lytel rekke That with hir distaff she hittethe him in the nekke, For a medecyne to chawf with his bloode. With suche a metyerde she hathe shape him an hoode.