AV MORELS SKI&. 431
I will swe'ete wife, then gan he say, Fulfill your mynde both loud and still; But ye be able, I sweare in fay, In all sportes to abide my will.
And they wrestled so long beforne,
That this they had for their greate rneade :
Both shyrt and smock was all to tome,
That their vprysyng had no speede.
But yet the mother came agayne,
And sayd to her daughter, how doest thou nowe ?
Mary, mother, betweene us twayne,
Our shyrtes be torne, I make God auowe.
By Gods dere mother, she sware than,
This order with vs may not continue :
I will no more lye by this man,
For he doth me brast both vayne and sinew.
Nay, nay, deare mother, this world goeth on wheeles :
By sweete Saynt George ye may me trowe,
He lyeth kicking with his heeles,
That he is like to beare me a blow.
My owne deare daughter, if thy smock be asonder, Another thou shalte haue-then, by this light: I pray thee hartely doo thou not wonder, For so was I dealt with the fyrst night That I by thy father lay, by the roode, And I doe thee with wordes playne : Me thought neuer night to me so good, As that same was when I tooke such payne.
Why, mother, were ye then glad
To be thus delt with as I am now ?
Me thinke my husband worse then mad,
For he doth exceede, I make God auow.
I could not lye still, nor no rest take,
Of all this night, beleue ye me:
Sometime on my syde, and sometime on my backe,
He rode and layd me, so mote I thee.