WIFE. What, I say? what meaneth this weeping?
What aileth thee to make all this crying?
HUSBAND. I weep not, forsooth, nor cry not as yet.
WIFE. No, nor thou wilt not, if thou hast any wit;
It is not thy weeping that can ought avail,
And therefore this matter no longer bewail.
Come off, I say, and run by the river,
And wash these clothes in the water.
HUSBAND. Wife, I will thither hie me fast.
WIFE. Yet I advise thee, thou cullon,[361] make haste.
HUSBAND. O, how unhappy and eke unfortunate
Is the most part of married men's condition!
I would to death I had been agate,[362]
When my mother in bearing me made lamentation.
What shall I do? whither shall I turn?
Most careful man now under the sky!
In the flaming fire I had rather burn,
Than with extreme pain live so heavily.
There is no shift; to my wife I must go,
Whom that I did wed; I am full wo!
Where are ye, wife? your clothes are washed clean,
As white as a lily,[363] without spot or stain.
WIFE. Thou thief, thou caitiff, why is not this lace
Washed as fair as all the rest?
Thou shalt for this gear now smoke apace!
By Jis,[364] I swear, thou brutish beast!
[_Here she must knock her Husband_.
HUSBAND. Alas, alas! I am almost quite dead!
My wife so pitifully hath broken my head!
[_Here her Husband must lie along on the ground,
as though he were sore beaten and wounded_.
WIFE. Well, I perceive the time will away,
And into the country to go I have promised;
Look therefore thou go not from hence to-day,
Till home again I am returned.
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