THE
WIFE
OF
BEITH
By CHAUCER.
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A new Edition
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Printed in the Year, 1785.
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(Price, One Penny.)
IN Beath once dwelt a worthy wife,
Of whom brave Chaucer mention makes,
She liv'd a licentious life
and namely in venereal acts;
But death did come for all her cracks,
when years were ſpent and days out driven,
Then ſuddenly ſhe ſickneſs takes,
deceaſt forthwith, and went to heaven.
But as ſhe went upon the way,
there followed her a certain guide,
And kindly to her he did ſay,
where me n you dame for to abide?
I know you are the wife of Beath,
and would not then that you go wrong;
For I'm your friend and would be loath,
that you go throw the narrow throng:
This way is broader, go with me,
and very pleaſant is the way;
I'll bring you there where you would be,
go with me friend ſay me not nay,
She look'd on him and then did ſpeer,
I pray you ſir, What is your name?
Show me the way how you came here,
to tell to me it it is no ſhame:
Is that a favour about thy neck?
and what is that upon your ſide?
Is it a bag or ſilver ſack;
What are you then, where do you bide?
I was a ſervant unto CHRIST;
and Judas ⟨likewiſe⟩ is my name.
I knew you by your colours firſt,
indeed sir you are to blame;
Your maſter did you not betray?
wherefore you bide I will no ſtay.
Go then you knave let me alone.
Whatever I be I'll ye your guide,
becauſe you know not well the way
Will you but once in me confide,
I'll do all friendſhip that I may.
What would you have where do you dwell?
I have no will to go with thee:
I fear it is ſome lower cell,
I pray thee therefore let me be.
This is a ſtormy night and cold,
I'll bring you to a righ warm inn
Will ye go forward and behold,
and mend your pace till we win in.
I'm fear'd your inn will be too warm,
for too much hotness is not beſt,
I know your way it is to hell,
for you are none of the eleven,
Go haſte you then into your cell,
my way is only into Heaven.
That way is by the gates of hell,
If you intend there for to go,
Good dame, I will not you compel,
but I will go with you alſo,
Then down they went a right ſteep hill,
where ſmoke and duſt did much abound,
And pitch and ſulphur burned ſtill,
With yells and cries hills did reſound;
The Fiend himſelf came to the gate.
I will not have you here good dame.
For you are miſtreſs of the of the flyting,
if once into theſe gates you came
I will be troubled with your biting.
Cummer gae back, and let me be,
here are too many of thi rout;
For women lewd like unto thee,
I cannot turn my foot about.
Sir thief, I ſay, I ſhall bide out.
But, goſſip was thou never to me.
For to come in I'm not ſo ſtout
And of my biting thou'ſ be free;
But Lucifer what's that to thee?
haſt thou no water in this place,
Thou look'n ſo black it ſeems to me,
thou ne'er does waſh thy ugly face,
If we had water here to drink,
we would not care for waſhing then:
Into theſe flames and filthy ſtink,
we burn with fire unto the doom;
Upbraid me then good wife no more,
for firſt when I heard of thy name,
I know thou had ſuch words in ſtore,
would make the devil to think ſhame.
Forſooth, ſir thief, you are to blame,
if I had time now to abide,
Once you were well, but may think ſhame,
That loſt Heaven for rebellious pride,
Who traitor like fell with the reſt,
becauſe thou would not be content,
And now of bliſs are diſpoſeſt,
without all grace for to repent;
Thou mad'ſt poor mother Eve conſent,
to eat of the forbidden tree,
Which we poor daughters may repent,
and makes us almoſt like to thee;
But GOD be bleſt who paſt thee by,
and did a Saviour provide,
For Adam's whole poſterity,
all thoſe who do in him confide;
Adieu, falſe fiend, I may not bide,
with thee I may no longer ſtay
My GOD in death he was my guide,
o'er hell I'll get the victory.
Then up the hill the poor wife went,
oppreſt with ſtinking flames of fear,
Weeping right ſore with great relent,
for to go elſe ſhe wiſt not where;
A narrow way with thorns and briers,
and full of mires were her before;
She ſighed oft with ſobs and tears,
the poor wife's heart was wondrous ſore:
Tir'd and torn ſhe went on ſtill,
ſometimes ſhe ſat, and ſometimes fell,
Ay till ſhe came to a high hill,
and then ſhe looked back to hell;
When that ſhe had climb'd up the hill,
then roſe and to her feet again
Her heart was glad, the way was good,
up to the hill ſhe hy'd with haſte,
The flowers were fair where that ſhe ſtood,
the fields were pleaſant to her taſte,
There then ſhe ſpied Jeruſalem,
on Zion's mount where that ſhe ſtood,
Shining with gold like to the ſun,
this ſilly ſoul was right glad;
The ports of pearls ſhining with gold,
glorious it was for to behold,
With precious ſtones gave ſuch a light,
the walls were of tranſparent gold,
High were the walls, the gates were ſhut,
and long they thought for to be in,
But then for fear of biding out,
ſhe knocked hard and made ſome din.
To knock and cry ſhe did not ſpare,
till father Adam did her hear,
Who is't that raps ſo loudly there?
Heaven cannot well be won by weir,
The wife of Beith, ſince that you ſpier,
hath ſtood theſe two hours at the gate,
Go back, quoth he, thou muſt forbear,
here may no ſinners enterance get.
Adam, ſaid ſhe, I shall be in,
in ſpite of all ſuch churls as thee,
Thou art the original of all ſin,
for eating of the forbidden tree,
But for thy foul offences fled
for which thou art not flyting free.
Adam went back and let her be,
looking as if his noſe had bled;
Then mother Eve did at him ſpier,
who was it there that made ſuch din?
He ſaid a woman would be here,
for me I durſt not let her in;
I'll go, quoth ſhe, and aſk her will,
her company I would have fain;
But ay ſhe cried, and knocked ſtill,
and in no ways would refrain;
Daughter, ſaid Eve, you will do well,
and come again another time;
Heaven is not won by ſword nor ſteel,
nor none that's guilty of a crime;
Mother, ſaid she, the fault is thine,
that knocking here ſo long I ſtand,
Thy guilt is more by far than mine,
if thou would rightly underſtand,
Thou waſt the cauſe of all our ſins,
wherein we're born and conceiv'd,
Our miſeries thou didſt begin,
by thee thy huſband was deceiv'd.
Eve went back where Noah was,
and told him all, how ſhe was blam'd
With her great ſin, and firſt treſpaſs,
whereof ſhe was ſo much aſham'd.
Then Noah ſaid, I will go down,
and will forbid her that ſhe knock,
Go back, ſhe ſaid, ye drunken lown,
you're none of the celeſtial flock.
Noah, ſaid ſhe, hold thou thy peace,
where I drank ale thou didſt drink wine,
Diſcover'd was, to thy diſgrace,
when thou waſt drunken like a ſwine;
If I drank I learn'd of thee,
for thou rt the father, and the firſt
That others taught; and likewiſe me,
to drink when as we had no thirſt.
Then Noah in haſte turn d back with ſpeed,
and told the patriarch Abraham then,
How that the carling made him dread,
and all his how ſhe did ken
Abraham, ſaid ſhe, will ye but ſpier,
I hope you are not flyting free;
You of yourſelf had ſuch a care,
deny'd yourſelf and made a lie,
Oh, then I pray you let me be,
for I repent me of my ſin,
Do thou but open the gates to me,
and let me quietly come in.
Abraham went back to Jacob then,
and told his Nephew how he ſped,
How that of her he nothing wan,
he thought the carling was right mad,
Then down came Jacob thro' the cloſe,
and ſaid go backward down to hell;
Jacob, quoth ſhe, I know thy voice,
that gate pertaineth to yourſel';
Of thy old trumperies I can tell,
with two ſiſter's thou leadſt thy life,
The third part of the tribes twelve
thou got with maid's beſide thy wife;
And ſtole thy father's benniſon,
only by fraud thy brother frae,
Gave thou him not for veniſon,
a kid inſtead of a beaken rea.
Jacob himſelf was tickled ſo,
he went to Lot where he was lying,
And to the gate pray'd him to go,
and ſtaunch the carling of her crying.
Lot ſays, fair dame make leſs ado,
and come again another day,
Old harlot carle and drunkard too,
thou with with thine own daughters lay,
Of thine untimely ſeed I ſay,
proceedeth never good but ill.
Poor Lot for ſhame he ſtole away,
and let the wife ſtill crack her fill.
Meek Moses then went down at laſt,
to pacify the carling then;
Now dame, ſaid he, knock not ſo faſt,
your knocking will not let you ben.
Good ſir, ſaid ſhe I am aghaſt,
when that I look you in the face,
If that your law till now had laſt,
then ſurely I had ne'er got grace;
But Moses, ſir, now by your leave.
altho' in Heaven you be poſſeſt,
For all you ſaw did not believe,
but you in Horeb there tranſgreſt;
Then Aaron ſaid I will not ſwear
but I'll conjure her as I can,
And I will make her to forbear,
ſo that ſhe ſhall not rap again.
Then Aaron ſaid, thou whoriſh wife,
go get you gone and rap no more;
(With idols you have led your life,)
or then you ſhall repent it ſore,
Good Aaron, prieſt, I know thee well,
the golden calf you may remember,
Who made the people plagues to feel,
'tis of you recorded ever;
Your prieſthood now is nothing worth,
CHRIST is my only prieſt and he,
My LORD; who will not keep me forth,
ſo I'll be in ſpite of thee.
Then up ſtarts Samson at the length,
unto the gate apace came he,
To drive away the wife by ſtrength,
but all in vain it would not be.
Samson, quoth ſhe, the world may ſee,
thou was a judge that prov'd unjuſt,
Thoſe gracious gifts which God gave thee,
thou loſt then, by licentious luſt,
From Delilah thy wicked wife,
thy ſecrets could not thou refrain,
She daily ſought to take thy life,
thou loſt thy ſight when thou was slain,
Though thou was ſtrong, it was in vain,
hunting with harlot's here and there,
Then Samson turning back again,
and with the wife would meet no mair.
Then ſaid king David knock no more,
we are all troubled with your crying,
David, quoth ſhe, why cam'ſt thou here,
thou mightſt bide out as well as I,
Thy deeds no way thou canſt deny,
is not thy ſins far worſe than mine?
Who with Uriah's wife did ly,
and caus'd him to be murder'd ſyne.
Then Judith ſaid, who's there that knocks?
and to our neighbour's give theſe notes,
Madam, ſhe ſaid, let be your mocks,
I come not here for cutting throats;
I am a ſinner full of bloats,
Yet thro' CHRIST's blood I ſhall be clean,
If you and I were judg'd by votes,
the things thou did'ſt was worſe done.
Then ſaid the ſapient Solomon,
thou art a ſinner all men ſay,
Therefore our Saviour I do ſuppoſe,
the Heavenly enterance will deny.
Remember, quoth ſhe, thy latter day,
what idol gods thou did up ſet,
And grew ſo lewd at Venus play,
thou did'ſt thy Maker quite forget,
Then Jonah, quoth ſhe, how ſtands the caſe,
how came you here to be with CHRIST?
How dare you look him in the face?
conſidering how you broke your tryſt;
To GOD's errand thou withſtood him,
and held his counſel in diſdain;
The raven meſſenger thou play'd him,
and brought no meſſage back again;
With mercy thou was not content,
when that the LORD he did them ſpare,
Although the city did repent,
it grieved thee, thy heart was ſair;
Let me alone and ſpeak no more,
go back again into your whale,
For now my heart is alſo ſore,
but yet I hope I ſhall prevail.
Good Jonah ſaid, crack on your fill,
for here I may no longer tarry,
Yea knock as long as e'er ye will,
and go into the firie faire.
Joanh ſhe ſaid, ye do miſcarry,
as I have done in former times,
You're not St Peter nor St Mary,
thy bloat's as black as e'er mine.
So Jonah then he was aſham'd,
becauſe he was not flyting free,
Of all his faults ſhe had him blam'd,
he left her then and let her be.
Saint Thomas I counſel thee,
go ſpeak unto this wicked wife,
She ſhames us all; and for me,
her like I never heard in life
Thomas then ſaid, you make ſuch ſtrife,
when you are out there meikle din,
If you were here, I'll lay my life
no peace the Saints would get within;
It is your trade to be flyting,
ſtill in a fever as one raves,
No marvel tho' you wives be biting,
your tongues were made of aſpen leaves.
Thomas, quoth ſhe, let be your Saints
you play the pick-thank I perceive,
Tho' thou be brother'd with the Saints,
an unbelieving heart you have;
You brought our LORD unto the grave,
but wouldſt no longer with him remain,
And was the laſt of all the lave,
that did believe he roſe again;
There might no doctrine do the good,
no miracles made thee confide,
Till thou beheld CHRIST's wounds & blood
and put'ſt thine hand into his ſide;
Didſt thou not daily with him dine,
and ſaw'ſt the miracles which he wrought?
But bleſt are they who do confide,
and do believe, but ſaw him nought.
Thomas, ſhe ſays, will ye but ſpier,
if that my ſiſter Magdalen,
Will come to me, if ſhe be here;
for comfort ſure ſhe'd give me more.
He was ſo blyth, and turned back,
and thanked GOD that he was gone,
He had no will to hear her crack,
but told it Mary Magdalen.
When that ſhe heard her ſiſter s mocks,
ſhe went unto the gate with ſpeed,
And aſked her who's there that knocks?
It's I the wife of Beith, indeed
She ſaid good miſtreſs you muſt ſtand,
till you be tried by tribulation.
Siſter ſhe ſays, give me your hand,
are we not of one vocation?
It is not through your occupation,
that you are placed ſo divine;
My faith is fix'd on CHRIS 's paſſion,
my ſoul ſhall be as ſafe as thine,
Then Mary went away in haſte.
the carling made her ſo aſham'd;
She had no will of ſuch a gueſt,
to loſe her pains and ſo be blam'd
Now good St Paul, ſaid Magdalen,
for that you are a learn'd man,
Go and convince this woman then,
for I have done all that I can
Then went the good apoſtle Paul,
to put the wife in better tune
Waſh off that filth than files thy ſoul,
then ſhall Heaven's gates be opened ſoon.
Remember Paul what thou haſt done,
for all the epiſtles thou did'ſt compile;
Though now thou ſitteſt up above
thou perſecuteſt CHRIST a while.
Saint Paul ſaid ſhe, it is not ſo?
I did not know ſo well as ye;
But I will to my Saviour go,
who will his favours ſhew to me;
You think you are of flyting free,
becauſe you was rapt up above,
But yet it was CHRIST's grace to thee,
and matchleſſneſs of his dear love.
Then Paul ſhe ſays, let Peter come,
if he be lying let him riſe;
To whom I will confeſs my ſin,
and let him quickly bring the keys.
Too long I ſtand he'll let me in;
for why I cannot longer tarry;
Then ſhall you all be out of din,
for I muſt ſpeak with good Saint Mary.
The good apoſtle diſcontented,
right ſuddenly he turn'd back,
For he did very much repent,
to hear the carling proudly crack.
Paul ſays, good brother now ariſe,
and make an end of all this din,
And if ſo be you have the keys,
open and let the carling in
The apoſtle Peter roſe at laſt,
and to the gate with ſpeed he hies;
Caling ſays he, knock not ſo faſt,
you cumber Mary with your cries,
Peter, ſhe ſaid, let CHRIST ariſe,
and grant me mercy in my need,
For why I never deny'd him thrice,
as thou thyſelf haſt done indeed.
Thou carling bold, what's that to thee?
I got remiſſion for my ſin,
It coſt many ſad tears to me,
before I entered here within.
Thou muſt be puriefied of ſin,
and of all ſins muſt be made free.
Saint Peter then no thanks to you,
that ſo you were rid of your fears,
It was CHRIST's precious look I trow,
that made you weep theſe bitter tears.
The door of mercy is not clos'd,
I may get mercy as well as ye,
It is not ſo as ye ſuppoſe,
I will be in, in ſpite of thee.
But wicked wife, it is too late,
thou ſhouldeſt have mourned on the earth;
Repentance now is out of date,
it ſhould have been before thy death;
Thou mighteſt then have turned wrath,
to mercy then, and mercy got,
But now the LORD is very loath,
ah! Peter then what ſhall I do?
Hell will not hear me as I hear;
ſhall I deſpair of mercy too,
No, no I'll truſt in mercy dear,
and if I periſh here I'll ſtay,
And never go from heaven bright,
I'll ever hope and always pray
until I get my Saviour's light,
I think indeed, you are not right,
if you had faith you could win in;
Importune then with all your might,
faith is the feet wherewith you came.
But good Saint Peter let me be,
had you ſuch faith, did it abound?
When you did walk upon the ſea,
was you not like for to be drown'd?
Had not our Saviour helped thee:
who came and took thee by the hand;
So can my LORD do unto me,
and bring me to the promis'd land;
Is my faith weak, yet he is ſtrong,
the ſame, and ever ſhall remain;
His mercy laſts, and his good will,
to bring me to his flock again;
He will me help and me relieve,
and will increaſe my faith alſo,
If weakly I can but believe,
for from this place I'll never go
But Peter ſaid, how can that be?
how dareſt thou look him in the face?
Such horrid ſinners like to thee,
can have no courage to get grace:
Here none come in but they that's ſtout,
and ſuffered have for the good cauſe,
Like unto thee are keeped out,
for thou haſt broke all Moses laws.
Peter, ſaid ſhe, I do appeal
from Moses, and from thee alſo;
With him and you I'll not prevail,
but to my Saviour I will go;
Indeed of old you were right ſtout,
when you did cut off Malchus ear,
But after that you went about,
and a poor maid did you fear;
Wherefore Saint Peter do forbear,
a comforter indeed you're not,
Let me alone, I do not fear
take home the whiſtle of your groat
Was it your own or Paul's good ſword?
When that your courage was ſo keen,
You was right ſtout upon my word,
then would you fain at fiſhing been;
For at the crowing of the cock
you did deny your Master thrice,
For all your ſtoutneſss turn'd a block,
now flyte no more if you be wiſe,
Yet at the laſt the LORD aroſe,
invironed with Angles bright,
And to the wife in haſte he goes,
deſir'd her ſoon paſs out of ſight,
O LORD, ſhe ſaid, now do me right,
but not according to my ſin;
Have ye not promiſed day and night,
when ſinners knock to let them in
He ſaid, thou wreſts the Scriptures now,
the night is come thou ſpends the day,
In whoredom thou haſt lived long,
and to repent did'ſt delay;
Still my commandments thou abuſed'ſt,
and vice committed buſily
Since thou my mercy thou refuſed'ſt,
go ⟨down⟩ to hell eternally
O LORD, my ſoul doth teſtify,
that I have ſpent my time in vain,
Oh! make a wandering ſheep of me,
and bring me to thy flock again.
Thinkeſt thou there is no court to crave,
of all theſe gifts in thee was planted,
I gave thee beauty above the lave,
and a requeſt you never wanted.
Conform unto the Jewiſh laws,
was brought to thee to be put down,
But nevertheleſs thou let'ſt her go,
and make the Pharaſies afraid.
Indeed, ſays CHRIST, it was right ſo,
and that my bidding was obey'd,
Woman, ſaid he, I muſt not call,
the childrens bread to dogs like thee,
Altho' my mercy ſtill doth laſt,
yet is there mercy more for thee.
But loving LORD, may I perſume,
poor worm that I may ſpeak again,
The dogs for hunger was undone,
and of the crumbs they were right fain;
Grant me one crumb that does fall,
from thy beſt childrens table LORD,
That I may be refreſh'd withal,
it will to me help enough afford.
The gates of mercy now are cloſ'd,
and thou can'ſt hardly enter in,
It is not ſo as thou ſuppos'd,
for thou art daily ſick in ſin.
It's true indeed my LORD moſt meek,
my ſore and ſickneſs ⟨I⟩ do feel;
Yet I will never go away,
for altho' in youth I had a ſway,
To whom ſhall I go in old age?
or who ſhall I with ſin engage?
For I was old and out of breath,
although I be the wife of Beith,
In Beith I liv'd this fifty years
and after death I did come here;
Now from this place I'll never go,
for ſtill I ſay it ſhall be ſo.
Yet thou the ſame did'ſt truely lead,
who lay long at Bethſaton's pool,
Of many that the never fought,
Like to the poor Samaritan,
even as thou did the widow of Nain,
Moſt gracious GOD, did thou not bid
all that are weary come to thee?
Behold I come, even overlaid
with ſin, have mercy upon me.
The iſſues of thy ſoul are great,
thou art both leperous and unclean,
To be with me you are not unfit,
go from me then, let me alone.
Master, ſaid ſhe, it muſt be granted,
my ſins are great, give me contrition:
The forlorn ſon when he repented,
obtain'd his father's full remiſſion,
I ſpared my judgements many times,
and ſpiritual paſtors did thee lend,
But thou renewed thy former crimes,
ay more and more me to offend.
My LORD, ſaid ſhe, I do amend,
lamenting for my former vice,
The poor thief at the latter end,
for one word went to Paradiſe.
The thief heard never of my teaching,
my heavenly precepts, and my laws,
But thou was daily at my preachings,
both heard and ſaw and yet miſca's.
Master, ſaid ſhe the Scripture ſhows,
the Jewiſh woman which broke thy laws,
Sweet LORD, my GOD ſay me not nay,
for if I periſh, here I'll die.
Poor ſilly wretch, now ſpeak no more,
thy fain, poor ſoul, hath ſaved thee,
Enter, go in unto my glory,
and reſt through all eternity.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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