Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/74

46

Is there someland that he and you

Sould share, and hence this fine ado?

You sit and list his fluting tales

With heads close set till daylight fails;

My blood nigh boils with rage to see

You carry on so shamelessly.

I swear ’fore God, who lieth never,

That either you your friendship sever

With him, or else from forth my door

You go with face of blackamoor,

For, help me God, unless you chase

From out your heart all track and trace

Of this loose love, your features I

Will beat and batter till you cry

For mercy, and agree to drop

That cackle I’m resolved to stop.

Alone, you ne’er the public way

Shall tread, but serve me night and day

At home, made sure with iron-chained hands.

Think you a woman e’er commands

Her husband’s love who gads about

With dangling men, week in, week out?

And if they follow you, ’tis plain

That you encourage them amain,

For they’d not dare to make pretence

Of love, but for your impudence.

The devil’s prompting ’twas that made

Me marry such a wanton jade.

Ha! would I’d Theophrastus read

Ere, like a fool, I thrust my head

In wedlock’s noose: No man, saith he,

Who’s blest with fair sagacity