Summary

Portrait of John Lydgate John Lydgate The Disguising at Hertford

Hit is no game, but an hernest play For lack of wit a man his wyf to greeve. Theos housbondemen : who so wolde hem leeve, Koude yif they dourst telle : in Audyence, What folowethe ther of wyves to doone offence. Is noon so olde ne ryveld on hir face, Wit tong or staff but that she dare manase. Mabyle, God hir sauve and blesse, Koude yif hir list bere here of witnesse, 80 Wordes, strookes vnhappe, and harde grace, With sharp nayles kracching in the face.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John Lydgate John Lydgate The Disguising at Hertford

I mene thus, whane the distaff is brooke With theyre fistes wyves wol be wrooke. Blessed thoo men that cane in suche offence Meekly souffre, take al in pacyence Tendure suche wyfly purgatorye. Heven for theyre meede, to regne ther in glorye. God graunt al housbandes that beon in this place To wynne so heven for his hooly grace. 90 Nexst in ordre, this bochier stoute and bolde That killed hathe bulles and boores olde, This Berthilmew, for al his broode knyff, Yit durst he neuer with his sturdy wyff In no mater holde chaumpartye.
Source: Gutenberg

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