In pure goodwill I took this jovial spark, Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk. He boarded with a widow in the town, A trusty gossip, one dame Alison; Full well the secrets of my soul she knew, Better than e'er our parish priest could do. To her I told whatever could befall: Had but my husband piss'd against a wall, 270 Or done a thing that might have cost his life, She--and my niece--and one more worthy wife, Had known it all: what most he would conceal, To these I made no scruple to reveal. Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame That e'er he told a secret to his dame. It so befell, in holy time of Lent, That oft a day I to this gossip went; (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town) From house to house we rambled up and down, 280 This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour, Alse, To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales. Visits to every church we daily paid, And march'd in every holy masquerade; The stations duly, and the vigils kept; Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept. At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best array; The cause was this, I wore it every day. 'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields, 290 This clerk and I were walking in the fields. We grew so intimate, I can't tell how, I pawn'd my honour, and engaged my vow, If e'er I laid my husband in his urn, That he, and only he, should serve my turn. We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed; I still have shifts against a time of need: The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul. I vow'd I scarce could sleep since first I knew him, 300 And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone, And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown: All this I said; but dreams, sirs, I had none: I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore, Who bid me tell this lie--and twenty more. Thus day by day, and month by mouth we pass'd; It pleased the Lord to take my spouse at last. I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust, And beat my breasts, as wretched widows must. 310 Before my face my handkerchief I spread, To hide the flood of tears I did not shed. The good man's coffin to the church was borne; Around, the neighbours, and my clerk, too, mourn: But as he march'd, good gods! he show'd a pair Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair! Of twenty winters' age he seem'd to be; I (to say truth) was twenty more than he; But vigorous still, a lively buxom dame, And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame. 320 A conjuror once, that deeply could divine, Assured me Mars in Taurus was my sign. As the stars order'd, such my life has been: Alas, alas! that ever love was sin! Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace, And Mars assurance and a dauntless face. By virtue of this powerful constellation, I follow'd always my own inclination.