Under the Asse tayle thoughe it be no thynge pure Yet many seke and grope for the vyle fatnes Gatherynge togyther the fowle dunge and ordure Suche ar they that for treasour and ryches Whyle they ar yonge in theyr chefe lustynes An agyd woman taketh to theyr wyfe Lesynge theyr youth, and shortynge so theyr lyfe They that so do hath neyther rest nor peas But besy brawlynge and stryfe contynuall They have no pleasour, but thought and great dyseas Rebuke out braydynge, and strypes whan they fall But theyr owne foly is grounde and cause of all For they be maryd unto the vyle treasour And precious bagges, but nat for godly pleasour They haue no hope of children nor lynage Loue is there none, and durynge theyr wretchyd lyfe Is nat one day in suche mad maryage Auoyde of brawlynge, of hatered and of stryfe But that pore man that weddeth a ryche wyfe Cast in his nose shall styll hir bagges fynde For whose cause he made was made and blynde They that ar weddyd nat for loue but rychesse Of moryage despysynge the pleasour and profyte Suche seldome sauour fortunes happynes But oft mysfortune them greuously doth byte Thus gone is theyr pleasour theyr ioy and delyte And for vayne treasoure suche ar so glad and fayne That for the same they them subdue to payne They wyllyngly to payne them selfe subdue The whiche ar weddyd for wretchyd couetyse They take no hede to maners and vertue To honeste nor wysdome but lyue ay in malyce For if a woman be fowle and full of vice And lewde of maners, nought both to man and lad Yet good shall hir mary be she neuer so bad If that a man of hye or lowe degre Wolde spouse his doughter vnto a strange man He nought inquyreth of his honestye Of his behauour, nor if he norture can But if he be ryche in londes and good: than He shall be prayed his doughter for to haue Thoughe be but a bonde man or a knaue The firste enquyrynge and speciall questyon Is of the money, that thynge namely they moue And last of all aske they the condicion So whan they mete they neuer haue perfyte loue Wherfore it were better to suche for theyr behoue To byde alone in deserte and wyldernes Than in wedloke in payne for frayle ryches Forsoth it is an vnmete maryage And disagreynge and moche agaynst the lawe Bytwene fresshe youth, and lame vnlusty age The loue bytwene them is scantly worth a strawe So doth the one styll on the other gnawe And oft the man in mynde doth sore complayne. His sede to sowe vpon a grounde barayne Than muste he haue another prymme or twayne With them to slake his wanton yonge cowrage But in that space must he endure great payne With hir that he hath tane in maryage Hir bablynge tunge whiche no man can asswage With wrathfull wordes shall sle hym at the laste His other prymes his good shall spende and waste