Disguising at Hertford by John Lydgate
page 5 of 14 (35%)
page 5 of 14 (35%)
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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. And if he did, sheo wolde anoon defye His pompe, his pryde, with a sterne thought, And sodeynly setten him at nought. Thoughe his bely were rounded lyche an ooke She wolde not fail to gyf the first strooke. [100] For proude Pernelle lyche a Chaumpyon Wolde leve hir puddinges in a gret Cawdroun, Suffre hem boylle and taake of hem noon heede, But with hir skumour reeche him on the heued. Shee wolde paye him and make no delaye, Bid him goo pleye him a twenty deuel way. She was no cowarde founde at suche a neode, Hir fist ful offt made his cheekis bleed. What querell euer that he agenst hir sette, She cast hir not to dyen in his dette. [110] She made no taylle, but qwytt him by and by. His quarter sowde, she payde him feythfully. And his waages, wt al hir best entent, She made ther of noon assignement. Eeke Thome Tynker, with alle hees pannes olde |
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