Here begynneth a merry ieste of a shrewde and curste wyfe, lapped in morrelles skin, for her good behauyour

LYsten friendes, and holde you still, Abide a while and dwell: A mery Iest tell you I will, And how that it befell. As I went walking vpon a day, Among my friendes to sporte: To an house I tooke the way, To rest me for my comforte.

¶A greate feast was kepte there than, And many one, was thereat: With wyues and maydens and many a good man, That made good game and chat. It befell then at that tyde, An honest man was there: A cursed Dame sate by his syde, That often did him dere.

¶His wife she was I tell you playne, This dame ye may me trowe: To play the maister she would not layne, And make her husband bowe. At euery word that she did speake, To be peace he was full fayne: Or else she would take him on the cheeke, Or put him to other payne.

¶When she did winke, he durste not stere, Nor play where euer he wente: With friend or neighbour to make good chere, Whan she her browes bente.

These folke had two maydens fayre and free, Which were their Daughters dere: This is true, beleeue you me, Of condicions, was none their pere.

¶The yongest was meeke, and gentle ywys, Her Fathers condicion she had: The eldest her mothers withouten misse, Sometime franticke and sometime mad. The father had his pleasure in the one alway, And glad he was her to behold: The mother in the other this is no nay, For in all her curstnesse, she made her bolde.

¶And at the last she was in fay, As curste as her mother in word and deede: Her mischieuous pageauntes sometime to play, Which caused her fathers heart to bleede. For he was woe and nothing glad, And of her would fayne be rid: He wished to God that some man her had, But yet to maryage he durst her not bid.

¶Full many there came the yongest to haue, But her father was loth her to forgoe: None there came the eldest to craue, For feare it should turne them to woe. The Father was loth any man to beguile, For he was true and iust withall: Yet there came one within a while, That her demaunded in the Hall.

¶Another there came right soone also, The yongest to haue he would be fayne: Which made the fathers heart full woe, That he and the yongest, should parte in twayne. But the mother was fell, and might her not see, Wherefore of her she would haue bene rid: The yong man full soone she graunted pardy, Greate Golde and syluer, with her she bid.

¶Saying full soone, he would her haue, And wedded they were shorte tale to make: The Father sayd so god me saue, For heauinesse and sorrowe, I tremble and quake. Also his hearte was in greate care, How he should bestowe the eldest ywys: Which should make his purse full bare, Of her he would be rid by heauens blisse.

¶As hap was that this yong man should, Desyre the eldest withouten fayle: To maryage he sayd full fayne he would, That he might her haue for his auayle. The Father sayd with wordes anon, Golde and syluer I would thee giue: If thou her marry by sweete saynt Iohn, But thou shouldest repent it all thy liue.

¶She is conditioned I tell thee playne, Moste like a Fiend, this is no nay: Her Mother doth teach her, withouten layne, To be mayster of her husband another day.

If thou shouldest her marry, and with her not gree, Her mother thou shouldest, haue alway in thy top: By night and day, that shouldest vex thee, Which sore would sticke, then in thy crop.

¶And I could not amend it by God of might, For I dare not speake my selfe for my life: Sometime among be it wrong or right, I let her haue all for feare of strife. If I ought say, she doth me treate, Except I let her haue her will: As a childe that should be beate, She will me charme the Deuill her kill.

¶Another thing thou must vnderstande, Her mothers good will thou must haue also: If she be thy friend, by sea or by lande, Amisse with thee, then can it not go. For she doth her loue with all her minde, And would not see her fare amisse: If thou to her dareling could be kinde, Thou couldest not want by heauens blisse.

¶If thou to the mother, now wilt seeke, Behaue thy selfe then like a man: And shew thy selfe both humble and meeke, But when thou haste her doe what thou can. Thou wotest what I sayd to thee before, I counsayle thee marke my wordes well: It were greate pitty, thou werte forlore, With such a deuillishe Fende of Hell.

¶I care not for that the yong man sayd, If I can get her mothers good will: I would be glad to haue that mayde, Me thinketh she is withouten euell. Alas good man I am sorry for thee, That thou wilt cast thy selfe away, Thou arte so gentle and so free: Thou shalt neuer tame hee I dare well say.

But I haue done I will say no more, Therefore farewell and goe thy way: Remember what I sayd to thee before, And beware of repentaunce another day.