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,