And yf so be he be no werkman good, It may well happe he shall have an horne, A large bone to stuffe with his hood; A mowe behynde, and fayned cheere beforne: And yf it fall that theyr good be lorne By aventure, eyther at even or morowe, The sely husbande shall have all the sorowe. An husbande hath greate cause to care For wyfe, for chylde, for stuffe and meyne, And yf ought lacke she wyll bothe swere and stare, He is a wastour and shall never the: And Salomon sayth there be thynges thre, Shrewde wyves, rayne, and smokes blake Make husbandes ofte theyr houses to forsake. Wyves be beestes very unchaungeable In theyr desyres, whiche may not staunched be, Lyke a swalowe whiche is insacyable: Peryllous caryage in the trouble see; A wawe calme full of adversyte, Whose blandysshynge endeth with myschaunce, Called Cyrenes, ever full of varyaunce. They them rejoyce to se and to be sene, And for to seke sondrye pylgrymages, At greate gaderynges to walke on the grene, And on scaffoldes to sytte on hygh stages, If they be fayre to shewe theyr vysages; And yf they be foule of loke or countenaunce, They it amende with pleasynge dalyaunce. And of profyte they take but lytell hede, But loketh soure whan theyr husbandes ayleth ought; And of good mete and drynke they wyll not fayle in dede, What so ever it cost they care ryght nought; Nor they care not how dere it be bought, Rather than they should therof lacke or mysse, They wolde leever laye some pledge ywys. It is trewe, I tell you yonge men everychone, Women be varyable and love many wordes and stryfe: Who can not appease them lyghtly or anone, Shall have care and sorowe all his lyfe, That woo the tyme that ever he toke a wyfe; And wyll take thought, and often muse How he myght fynde the maner his wyfe to refuse. But that maner with trouth can not be founde, Therfore be wyse or ye come in the snare, Or er ye take the waye of that bounde; For and ye come there your joye is tourned unto care, And remedy is there none, so may I fare, But to take pacyens and thynke none other way aboute; Than shall ye dye a martyr without ony doute. Therfore, you men that wedded be, Do nothynge agaynst the pleasure of your wyfe, Than shall you lyve the more meryly, And often cause her to lyve withouten stryfe; Without thou art unhappy unto an evyll lyfe, Than, yf she than wyll be no better, Set her upon a lelande and bydde the devyll fet her. Therfore thynke moche and saye nought, And thanke God of his goodnesse, And prece not for to knowe all her thought, For than shalte thou not knowe, as I gesse, Without it be of her own gentylnesse, And that is as moche as a man may put in his eye, For, yf she lyst, of thy wordes she careth not a flye.