Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/94

Do you, my church-wed wife, make play
With worthless spendthrifts, day by day,9560
While I by no means am exempt
From handling rude; with fine contempt
They cry: Ha! ha! may wolves devour
The jealous dotard with his sour
Curmudgeon’s grin, and may his bones
Be dragged by hounds across the stones!

Women will have their way By whom am I thus put to shame?
Baggage! by you, who bear my name,
Vile, common quean of ribald heart;
With ruffians well you play your part,9570
Foul bitch at heat! base spawn of hell!
False libertine! curst Jezebel!
Since thus you give yourself to crime,
God grant a year may fill your time,
For while you join in this wild race,
Your lecherous life is my disgrace,
And I through you shall surely be
One of the base fraternity
Of Saint Arnould accounted, and
A member of that cuckold band,9580
Wherein each man must spend his life
Who’s fool enough to take a wife,
For though one had a million eyes,
A woman will their watch surprise.
No guard can keep a wanton chaste,
And though she fail Eve’s fruit to taste
At first, if she thereto hath will,
Her purpose she’ll at last fulfil.

But Juvenal of yore spake thus,
As he were fain to comfort us:9590