Here is the boke of mayd Emlyn that had. v. husbandes and all kockoldes she wold make theyr berdes whether they wold or no, and gyue them to were a praty hoode full of belles.

Wyll ye here of meruaylles Drawne out of gospelles Of mayde Emlynne That had husbandes fyue And all dyd neuer thryue She coude so well spynne Louynge to go gaye And seldom for to praye For she was borne in Lynne Ofte wolde she seke The tauernes in the weke Tyll her wytte was thynne Full swetely wolde she kys With galauntes ywys And say it was no synne Thus collynge in armes Some men caught harmes Full lytell dyd they wynne And if her husbande sayd ought Loke what she sonest cought At his heed she wolde it flynge She wolde laye lorell thou I wyll teche thee I trowe Of thy language to blynne It is pyte that a knaue A prety woman sholde haue That knoweth not golde from tynne I trowe thou Ialouse be Bytwene my cosyn and me That is called syr Sym Thoughe I go ofte thyder We do nought togyder But prycked balades synge And I so cunnynge be The more worshyp is to the Gyuynge thanke to hym For he me fyrste taught So I my cunnynge caught Whan I wente a brosshynge With suche wordes douse This lytell prety mouse The yonge lusty prymme She coude byte and whyne Whan she fawe her tyme And with a prety gynne Gyue her husbande an horne To blowe with on the morne Beshrowe her whyte skynne And ofte wolde she sleke To make smothe her cheke With redde roses therin Than wolde she mete With her lemman swete And cutte with hym Talkynge for theyr pleasure That cocke with the fether Is gone an huntynge Hymselfe all alone To the wode he is gone To here the kockowe synge Thus with her playfere Maketh she mery chere The husbande knoweth nothynge She gyueth money plente Bycause newe loue is daynte Vnto her swetynge And prayeth ofte to come To playe there as shyneth no sonne So at the nexte metynge She gyueth her husbande a prycke That made hym double quycke So good was the gretynge Kocke called of the bone That neuer was mayster at home But as an vnderlynge His wyfe made hym so wyse That he wolde tourne a peny twyse And than he called it a ferthynge Nothynge byleued he But that he dyd with his eyes se Full trewe was his meanynge She cherysshed hym with brede and chese That his lyfe he dyd lese Than made she mournynge And dranke deuoutly for his soule The handbell ofte dyd she colle Full great sorowe makynge This sory wydowe But a whyle I trowe Mournynge dyd make Whan he was gone A yonge lusty one She dyd than take Longe wolde she not tary Lest she dyd myscary But full ofte spake To hast the weddynge And all for beddynge Some sporte to make Her herte to ease And the flesshe to please Sorowes to aslake In it out Ioyenge That wanton playenge For the olde husbandes sake yet by your leue A frere dyd she gyue Of her loue a flake And sayd in her ouen At any maner of season That he sholde bake There is rome ynowe For other and for you And space to set a cake ¶ The seconde husbande Nycoll That pore sely sonle Myght not escape A kockolde to dye It was his destenye As man vnfortunate His wyfe vndeuoute Ofte wolde go aboute And steppe ouer many a lake Makynge bost in her mode That her husbande can no more good Than can an vntaught ape Thus by her scole Made hym a fole And called hym dodypate So from his thryfte She dyd hym lyfte And therof creste the date She made hym sadde And sayd he was badde Croked legged lyke a stake She lyked not his face And fayd he mouthed was Moost lyke an hawke This good man case Was lothe to dysplease But yet thought somwhat Thynkynge in his mynde That a man can fynde A wyfe neuer to late For of theyr properte Shrewes all they be And slyle can they prate All women be suche Thoughe the man here the breche They wyll be euer checkemate Faced lyke an aungell Tonged lyke a deuyll of hell Great causers of debate They loke full smothe And be false of loue Venymous as a snake Desyrynge to be praysed A lofte to be raysed As an hyghe estate And these wanton dames Ofte chaungeth theyr names As An / Iane / Besse and Kate . Thus thynketh he In his mynde pryuely And nought dare saye For he that is maysterfast Full ofte is agast And dare not ronne and playe If she be gladde Than is he sadde And fere of a sodayne fraye For womans pryde Is to laughe and chyde Euery houre in a daye Whan she dothe loure And begynneth to snowre Pyteously dothe he saye What do ye lacke Ony thynge swete herte That I to you gyue maye She answered hym With wordes grotchynge Wysshynge her selfe in claye And sayth that she lackes Many prety knackes As bedes and gyrdels gaye And the best sporte That sholde me comforte Whiche is a swete playe I can it not haue For so god me saue Thy power is not to paye There is nought Nought may be cought I can no more saye Many men nowe here Can not women chere But maketh ofte delay The wyfe dothe mone It is not at home And boroweth tyll a daye What it is I trowe Well ynoughe ye knowe It is no nede to saye Thus saye the wyues If theyr husbandes thryues That they the causers be They gete two wayes Bothe with worke and playes By theyr huswyuery With theyr swete lyppes And lusty hyppes They worke so plesauntly Some wyll fall anone For they be not stronge They be weyke in the kne Be they pore or be they ryche I beshrewe all suche A men nowe saye ye They thynke it is as great almes As to saye the seuen psalmes And dothe it for charyte To gete gownes and furs These nysebeceturs Of men she weth theyr pyte Somtyme for theyr lust Haue it they must Or seke wyll they be If it do stycke And she fele it quycke Full slyle dothe she Begyn for to grone And wyssheth she had lyne alone What ayleth you than sayth he She saythe syr I am with chylde It is yours by Mary mylde And so he weneth it be Whan played is the playe Iacke the husbande must paye This dayly may ye se He was gladde ywys Of that that is not his And dothe it vp kepe She that dothe mocke hym A nother mannes concubyne And his chylde eke Lo thus dothe landes Fall in wronge ayres handes The causers may well wepe And worse dothe happen truely The broder the syster dothe mary And in bedde togyther slepe To synne syghtely wyll the chylde drawe That is bekoten without lawe Wedlocke is veray swete But ones for all The daye come shall The crye shall be welawaye Of all wedlocke brekers Thus saythe greate prechers Theyr dettes shall they truely paye All they that dothe offende Goo graunte them to amende And therfore lette vs praye . ¶ But nowe of Emlyne to speke And more of her to treate Truely for to saye Whan the seconde husbande was dede The thyrde husbande dyde she wedde In full goodly araye But as the deuyll wolde Or the pyes were colde Fell a sodayne fraye Moyses had a newe brother It wolde be none other And all came thorughe playe But mayde maydenhode myssynge Knoweth what longeth to kyssynge It is no nede to saye She loued well I trowe And gaue hym sorowe ynowe But ones on the daye With hym wolde she chyde He durst not loke asyde The bounde must euer okaye This man was olde And of compleccyon colde Nothynge lusty to playe She was full ranke And of condycyons cranke And redy was alwaye In Venus toyes Was all her Ioyes Seldome sayde she naye At the laste she thought That her husbande was nought And purposed on a daye To shorten his lyfe And as a true wyfe She wolde it not delaye Mayde Emlyn . To fulfyll her lust In a well she hym thrust Without any fraye And made countenaunce sad As thoughe she be sory had Also in good faye A reed onyon wolde she kepe To make her eyes wepe In her kerchers I saye She was than stedfast and stronge And kepte her a wydowe veraye longe In faythe almoost two dayes Bycause she made greate mone She wolde not lye longe alone For fere of sodayne frayes Leste her housbande dede Wolde come to her bedde Thus in her mynde she sayes . ¶ The fourthe housbande she cought That was lyke her nexte nought For he vsed his playes With maydens wyues and nonnes None amysse to hym commes Lyke they be of layes Hym she lyked yll She prayed the fende hym kyll Bycause he vsed her wayes This mannes name was harry He coude full clene cary He loued prety gayes So it happened at the last An halfepeny halter made hym fast And therin he swayes Than she toke greate thought As a woman that careth nought So for his soule she prayes And bycause she was seke She wedded the same weke For very pure pyte and wo yet or she was wedded Chryse had she bedded And great hast made therto The husbande had sone ynowe But Emlyn bended her browe And thought she had not so But to ease her louer She toke another That lustely coude do One that yonge was That coude ofte her basse Whiche she had fantesy to He coude well awaye With her lusty playe And neuer wolde haue do Bycause he coude clepe her She called hym a whypper And as they were togyder They bothe swetely played A sergeaunt them afrayed And sayd they were full queuer They were than full wo The frere wolde ben a go He cursed that he came thyder Whether they were leue or lothe He set them in the stockes bothe He wolde none dysceyuer In myddes of the market Full well was set In full fayre wether For it dyd hayle and thunder On them many men dyd wonder But Emlyne laughed euer She thought it but a Iape To se men at her gape Therof she shamed neuer And sayd for her sportynge It is but for Iapynge That we be brought hyder It is nother treason nor felony But a knacke of company And dye had I leuer Than it forsake For I wyll mery make Whyle youthe hathe fayre wether Whan her husbande it knewe Sore dyd he it rewe And was so heuy and wo He toke a surfet with a cup That made hym tourne his heles vp And than was he a go And whan she was at large Care she dyde dyscharge And in her mynde thought tho Nowe wyll I haue my luste With all them that wyll Iuste In spyte of them that saythe so And bycause she loued rydynge At the stewes was her abydynge Without wordes mo And all that wolde entre She durst on them ventre Veray gentyll she was lo And longe or she were dede She wente to begge her brede Suche fortune had she tho God dyd bete her surely With the rodde of pouerte Or she dyde hens go Than she dyed as ye shall But what of her dyde befall Naye there do I ho But they that rede this erly or late I praye Iesu theyr soules take Amen saye ye also . ¶ Finis .