¶ And tarried f●r his company  
Which had not done so quickly  
Although against his heart,  
For when he saw a full platter  
His mouth would straight run of water  
Till he thereof had part.  
¶ Yet mannerly he did refrain  
Whereof his Wife was right fain,  
To see him sit so quiet,  
Though he unsatisfied did rise  
And at supper likewise  
By change of wonted diet.  
¶ The day was past and night come,  
Beede would fain have been at home  
I know not well wherefore,  
His wife swore by her head  
That she would see the Bride in bed  
Before she ●ast the door 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 Bridegroom ●aide by Gods ' m●  
Cousin you shall not go home to night  
And therefore make no haste,  
Beede did thank him heartily  
Trusting that more Furmenty  
By tarrying he should taste.  
¶ When time was come convenient  
Every man homeward went  
Which had been at the feast,  
Saving some that ●ate Possettes  
Whilst a few merry gossips  
Brought the Bride to rest.  
¶ One gave the bed a charm  
Another was devising harm  
The third did school the Bride  
One would the sheets have sewed  
Another Nettles would have strewed  
Upon the Bridegroom's side.  
¶ I can not tell how they agreed  
But Mawde and her husband Beede  
Were to their lodging led,  
But Beede could no rest take,  
His belly so began to ache  
By hungry going to bed.  
¶ He turned and tossed still in pain  
His ●●f●e that would have slept fain  
He greatly did disease.  
Who knew not what the cause was  
How do you sir (quoth she) alas  
Be 〈…〉 at ease?  
¶ Wife (quoth he) and dear lee●e  
Thou never feltest the like grief  
Of mine I dare well say,  
It is of such extremity  
That if I have not remedy  
〈◊〉 shall not live till day.  
Sir (quoth she) then let me hear  
●hat is the thing that doth you dear  
And what your help must be?  
It is of such a quality  
That nothing else but furmety  
Can save my life (quoth he.)  
¶ By those words the wife knew  
whereupon the matter grew  
And waxed full of sorrow.  
Saying thus to him weeping  
Sir I pray you fall to sleeping  
And suffer till to morrow.  
¶ For now you know they be not hot  
Tell me (quoth he) where is the pot  
I care not how they be  
You do intent (quoth she) this night  
To put your honesty to flight  
As far as I can see.  
¶ For that (quoth he) care not thou  
And like one made began now  
To chase and threat her sore  
crying where is the pot still  
At last (quoth she) with an ill will  
Behind the milk house door.  
¶ Why then (quoth he) with merry cheer  
Let me alone if it be there  
I will it find I trow,  
Go closely (quoth she) than  
I would not for my speckelde Hen,  
That any should it know.  
¶ Up rose he then in his Shirt  
Not doubting Cold to do him hurt,  
For nothing could him stay  
He trod upon the ground soft  
Groping for the door oft  
Before he came half way.  
¶ The door stood by the catch  
Full saftely than he drew the latch  
For fear of making noise.  
And as behind the door he sought  
The Ladle by the end he caught  
Whereat he did rejoice.  
¶ From whence ear he did depart  
Although a full half quart  
The Ladle would contain,  
Syxe of them quite of the swilled  
To the brim with Pottage field  
To drive away his pain.  
¶ Though they wanted wholesome heat  
Yet he swore, he never meat  
Could like unto them find,  
I pray God, much good do it his heart  
And thus doth end the second part  
The best is yet behind.   

The third part.  
¶ How Beede that would have brought his wife a Ladle full of furmety to her bed, mist the way to his chamber, and how he kissed an old wives tail in stead of his wife. And how he bestowed The Pottage where he had kissed.  
BUt to make you understand  
The thing that I have in hand  
In plain and perfect sort,  
I m●st by way of degression  
Th●● make to you expression  
●herof did spring the sport.  
¶ This young man that so late  
Was exalted to the estate  
Of most honourable Marriage,  
Did keep his wedding residence  
In the house of his Parents  
A thing not rare in usage.  
¶ The old Father of the house  
With his wife and honest Spouse  
Though she were somewhat old  
Had their lodging near buy  
Where Beede and his wife did lie  
As me mine Auctor told.  
¶ Whose chamber door open stood  
Unluckyly that night by the Rood  
As things fell after out  
Which I intend to disclose  
As I no less did purpose  
When I went here about.  
¶ Though Fortune had been such a Friend  
That Beede obtained in the end  
His longed for reqest,  
Yet now on him she 'gan to frown  
And turned his luck quite upsy-down  
Before she let him rest.  
¶ For when he was well satisfied  
His anger then was mollified  
He was no longer wroth.  
But like a loving and kind heart  
wished that his Wife had part  
Of that so dainty broth.  
¶ Wherefore a Ladle full he hent  
And with them toward his wife went  
When he himself was sped  
Intending to have pleased her  
Because he had diseased her  
With tumbling in his bed.  
¶ But were it through to much haste  
Or whether that he were aghast  
With aught he saw abroad,  
I know not neither doth it skill  
But well I wot, he sped but ill  
In carriage of his load.  
¶ For as he like a Fox wily  
Passed toward his wife slily  
With the Ladle in his fist.  
He missing his own chamber,  
Into the old folks Parlour  
He slipped before he witted.  
¶ Yet weening that he had been right  
He went as warily as he might  
And still that way did keep,  
And forthwith in the same stound  
The aged couples bed he found  
Where both lay fost a sleep.  
¶ And albeit there was no light  
The Ladle yet he kept upright  
And not a drop was spylde,  
The old wife lay with her back  
To him ward, whose Bum for lack  
Of clotheses did lie unhylde.  
¶ Now Beede which did think he had  
Ben at his own bed side, for glad  
Did say his loathsome lips  
Full kindly to the bore place  
Supposing that his wives face  
Which was the good wives hips.  
¶ Here is wife some furmety  
(Quoth he) because so lovingly  
Thou toldst me where they stood,  
I never witted that any meat  
Made of a little milk and wheat  
Could have been half so good.  
¶ Taste of them here as thou liest  
Puff (quoth she) and lanchte a fist  
The wind somewhat heddye,  
Thou art unwise (quoth he) to blow  
Syppe afewe and thou sholt know  
They be cold enough already.  
¶ With that there blue so great a gale  
That would have made one's stomach quail  
It came with such a heat  
Wife (quoth he) by my faith  
He thinks thou haste a sour breath  
After thy Bridal meat.  
¶ And as he these words spoke  
It seemed that her tacklings brake  
Wherewith atempest rose  
For then the Thunderclaps did murder  
Rap, rap, one after another  
Ascending into his nose.  
¶ He waxed therewith very angry  
As I could not blame him greatly  
Being in such a case,  
By Cox lily wounds he swore  
If thou blow in them once more  
I will cast them in thy face.  
¶ With that there came a sore crack  
Enough to have made a shipwreck  
Then Beede the Ladle took,  
To daishe then he did not spare  
The Pottage on for Buttocks bore  
Wherewith the wife awocke.  
¶ And when she felt her buttocks weet  
Her tail cleaving to the sheet  
Out and alas (quoth she)  
Her husband a woke therewith anon  
In the name of God and saint john  
What aileth thee wife quoth he?  
¶ I am ashamed sir to tell it  
I have taken such a surfeit  
That I have played the child  
I pray you therefore heartily  
That you will take it patiently  
For I am all befylde.  
¶ The good man groping to her huckles  
Was by and by up to the knuckles,  
Then he began to rail  
Hast thou been at the pottage pot  
So oft (quoth he) that thou canst not  
More better rule thy tail.  
¶ It chanced not thereby (quoth she)  
Wilt thou tell me that (quoth he)?  
For scripture mention makes,  
That it was through none other meat  
For here enough doth lie of Wheat  
To make a couple of Cakes.  
¶ Couldst thou not from thy bed creep,  
I was quoth she so fast a sleep  
I knew not of the deed,  
When Beede did this debating hear  
As one that had a flea in his ear  
A way he went with speed.   

¶ The fourth part.  
¶ How Beede in returning to the pot with the Ladle again, prisoned on of his hands in a Cream pot, & how he did chide with his wife till she broke the Ladle on his head, & won the mastery of him with the loss of one of her eyes.  
Though Beede his latter labour lost  
His former pleasure, quit that cost  
If that had ended all,  
But as the Proverb doth express  
To sweet meat, a sour mess  
Of sauce doth often fall.  
¶ For as I said, he did not bide  
To here the man and wife chide  
For that which he had done,  
But stolen a way with soft noise  
And did not at his luck rejoice  
But made an inward moan.  
¶ For that he had so evil sped  
Being by his folly led  
Where he might shame have got  
And where he on his full gorge,  
Sustained such a sore discharge  
Of hot and perilous shot  
¶ And when he being thus bestead  
The milk house found again had  
Which long he mazed sought,  
The Ladle than he did restore  
Unto the Pot, from whence before  
With Pottage he had brought.  
¶ The Moon had then her perfit light  
And shown in at the window bright  
That opened to the South,  
Whereby Beede did soon espy  
A earthen pitcher standing by  
Which had a mylky mouth.  
¶ And as it is a Glottens guise  
That whereupon he sets his eyes  
That seemeth meat to be,  
His stomach will begin to gnaw  
Till part be in his greedy maw  
Of that his eye doth see.  
¶ For in the Pot, that there stood  
Was sweet Cream thick and good  
Which Beede did from the shelf  
Quickly take, and in it pried  
And what it was when he espied  
He laughed to himself.  
¶ saying maugre all ill luck  
He would thereat have one pluck  
Before he thence did pass.  
But Spoon could he none find  
And supping was not in his mind  
Wherefore he forced was.  
¶ Into the pot his fist to thrust  
To satisfy his greedy lust  
And hoggysshe appetite  
But of his fist the greatness  
And the pots mouth streatnes  
Did mar his purpose quite  
¶ Because through hardly going in  
Theridamas of, and chafing of the skin  
Wwich was both hard and tough  
The blood so fast into it fe●l  
That suddenly it 'gan to swell  
Then had he work enough  
¶ For out it would not come again  
Though he and hour full or twain  
Did struggle with it sore,  
He wrang and wrested, pluck and haylde  
He feet and chafed, cursed and raylde  
His hap he did deplore.  
¶ wishing that the time and hour  
That he from his own bower  
Proceeded like a mome,  
To see his wines cozen wed  
That he there with a broken head  
Had kept himself at home.  
¶ And when he from his bed did rise  
His hungry stomach to suffice  
To wish he now begins  
That the Threshold of the door,  
Had him tumbled in the floor  
And broken both his shins.  
¶ His wife that a sleep had taken  
In the mean while, was now waken  
And when her Mate she mist.  
In a musing mood she was  
For how the world was come to pass  
With him she little wist.  
¶ Yet thought she, by his long tarrying  
That there had happed some miscaryinge  
And therefore was in dread,  
For she thought that verily  
He had choked himself with furmety  
Because he came not to bed.  
¶ Up she rose to go look  
The way to the milk house she took  
Where busylye God wots  
Her Husband in his shryt she found  
Barefoot on the cold ground  
Wrestling with the pot.  
¶ Sir (quoth she) what do you mean?  
Speak soft (quoth he) naughty quean  
The devil pluck out thy tongue  
Then softly she again did say  
What is the matter I you pray  
That you have been so long.  
¶ But he was in such a rage  
As one that should on a Stage  
The part of Herode play,  
That all in vain did Mawde speak  
For he his fume did seek to wreak  
And then began a fray.  
¶ For a woman as you know  
Can very ill abide a blow  
And therefore in her mind  
That devil put it at the last,  
The she should be no more aghast  
To follow all her kind.  
¶ Which is to pay usury  
For any kind of Injury,  
By men unto them offered  
And Beede as I understand  
A buffet with his empty hand  
To Mawde his wife then proferde  
¶ The which she took in ill part  
saying sir be shrew thy heart  
For (you) was come from home:  
If thou do so much again  
Thou Lout quoth she I tell the plain  
I will dress the like a mome.  
¶ What (quoth he) even plain Lout,  
Then is it time to look about  
Your tawnting will I charm  
If I could from me discharge  
This Cream pot, that I once at large  
Might have my other arm.  
¶ But she like a subtle shrew  
His cowardly Courage well knew  
And therefore was she bold  
T vomit out her bitter bane  
That all the train in Turn again lane  
Might there have learned to scold.  
¶ Beede laid on with threats amain  
Mawde with tawntes replied again  
For a word, she gave him five,  
Bonayre and Bux●m was forgot  
Then Beede saw it booted not  
Against the stream to strive  
¶ And therewith all he did forbear  
His hasty words and spoke her fair  
Which put her in a Courage  
To use with him such kind of play  
That after till his dying day  
He cursed his Cosynes' Marriage.  
¶ For the more that Beede sought  
His wife to silence to have brought  
The louder still she crows,  
And when her powder all was spent  
Then vaylyauntly herself she bent  
To fall to handy blows.  
¶ But Beedes fortune was so ill  
His better hand yet being still  
Within the Cream pot fast,  
That about his bald noddle  
To rap a good the wooden Ladle  
His wife was not aghast.  
¶ crying loud at every stripe  
I will the teach, thou greedy Gripe  
Good manner more to know,  
The man had small defence God wots  
Yet now and then with the pot  
He warded well her blow.  
¶ But she laid one such lyll,  
That he was forced against his will  
That kind of ward forego,  
Or else in wilful dynging stroke  
The Earth Pot would soon have broke  
And spylde the Creeme also.  
¶ So that the silly man was fain  
Upon the Frontresse of his brain  
To take his wives blessing,  
Who quite a sunder on his noll  
At length did break the Ladle bowl  
Whereby she caught a dressing  
¶ Though a piece that back did fly  
And gave her such a blow in the eye  
That refte thereof the sight,  
And then to bed she went in pain  
With more loss to her then gain  
For all her cunning fight.   

¶ The fift part.  
¶ How Beed broke the Creampot on a Freers' head, and the Freer broke his fellows head. And of the hurt & discommodytie that came through Deeds longing for furmety.  
WHen Beede could see no remedy  
But that of meare necessity  
The Cream pot must a sunder,  
To find a place where he might  
Work his purpose out of sight  
About then did he blunder.  
¶ In the end he thought without the door  
Was the fittest place therefore  
Sith needs he do it must  
Intending there by subtile wit  
To throw the sherdes into some pit  
And hide the Cream he must.  
¶ Why do I stay, he got him out  
To do the thing he went about  
With haste devoid of heed  
But as it is an old Rhyme  
Hast makes wast sometime  
So did it ●hen by Beede.  
¶ For as asy●●● he cast his eye  
A dark corn●r he did espy  
And thither himself he got,  
Where a sleep lay two Friars  
Bald almost to the ears  
Upon a green plot.  
¶ Which two such manner uties  
Had kept above their duties  
Over even at the Marriage  
And were so well entertained  
That there they were both constrained  
To take up their harbygage.  
¶ They had sucked such a juice  
Out of the good ale Cruce  
Wherein they found no dregs  
That neither of them his head  
Could carry home to his bed  
For lack of better legs.  
¶ But there the silly fools  
Say sleeping in their Cools  
And bore headed was one  
Which Beede did nothing mark  
But at a blush in the dark  
Did take it for a stone.  
¶ Whereupon the pot he strake  
So hard that it in pieces broke  
Then was he well apaid,  
But when he saw what he had done  
He whypte away to bed soon  
And nothing thereof said,  
¶ The friar awaked with the blow  
And can upon his own fellow  
That still lay fast asleep.  
saying knave, why dost thou so,  
I will requite the or I go  
Thy head I advise the keep.  
¶ And with a great pibble stone  
He broke his fellows head anon  
Who therewith up did start  
And said again unto the other  
What doth move the gentle brother  
To play with me this part.  
¶ A good c●se there is (quoth he)  
For that thou hast so served me  
As it no less appears,  
See quoth he then drunken Lout  
How thou my brains hast stricken out  
Which run about mine ears.  
¶ The friars then to buffets fell  
Who had the worse I can not tell  
For no man was them by  
But he that best of them sped  
Was sure of a broken head  
Or else I heard a lie.  
¶ On the morrow was there found  
The Cream pot broke on the ground  
A marvel in mine eyes  
The Cream was run down the gutter  
The Cook thereby for lack of Butter  
That day did mar the Pies.  
¶ The Ladle cleft a sunder was  
And how all this should come to pass  
The people mused sore,  
The furmety was half eaten  
The milk Maid was shrewdly beaten  
For locking not the door.  
¶ The old woman to her pain  
In such a humble broth had lain  
That on her heavy hips  
The skin alas, was chased of  
As broad I wis I do not scoff  
As yonder young man's lips.  
¶ Mawde had upon her brow  
caught a Clap I told you how  
Whereby she lost an eye  
Men thought her husband Beede  
That night in bed had done that deed  
But there they went a wry.  
¶ For beside many a knock  
Which he of her in her smock  
Had taken like a Daster.  
He never while she was his wife  
Could after live a quiet life  
For still she would be master.  
¶ All these fore said chances ill  
If Beede in head had lain still  
Had not so hapte that day:  
But now there was noremedye  
For no man could for certainty  
The fault to any lay.  
¶ Every man there at mused  
But Beede first himself excused  
Whom no man did suspect:  
But when his mylkye sleeve was spied  
Which like a fool he could not hide  
The matter was detect.  
¶ Home therefore he went in hast  
Not tarrying for his break fast  
Nor yet the Bride to thank,  
His wife took more leisure  
And went after at her pleasure  
A shamed of the prank.  
¶ Yet like an honest woman she  
took her leave, so did not he  
Of thanks she made no spare,  
desiring God to send them joy  
And then God save her and saint Loy  
She called for her Mare.  
¶ And thus of that matrimony  
Did end the great solemnity  
Where to so many fell,  
Such hurt and discommodytie  
Through a poor mess of furmety  
That all that yet do devil.  
¶ Within the Coast of Cumberlande  
That did the Process understand  
Will speak ye at of that Feast,  
But let them talk and say their fill  
For I have said all that I will  
And therefore here I rest.  
¶ Finis. quoth. G. Kyttes.