Ingelend, Thomas · published 1570 · first performed or written 1560 [c.1559-1570] (Annals) moral unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Haste thou by proof soon, this thing tried? Yea, alas to much I have experyenced: My wife, I did wed, all full of frenzy, My silly poor shoulders, hath now so bruised, That like to a cripple, I moon me weakly, Being full often with the staff thwacked: She spareth no more my flesh and bone, Than if my body were made of Stone, Her will, her mind, and her Commandment, From that day hither, I have fulfilled: Which if I did not, I was bitterly shent, And with many strokes grievously punished: That would God the hour when I was married, In the midst of the Church I might have fynked. I think there is no man under the Son That here on the earth beareth life: Which would do such drudgery, as I have done, At the unkind words of such a wife, For how I was used, and in what wise A day to declare will not suffice. If this be not true, as I have spoken To my good neighbours I me report, Who either whiles when I was smitten My wife to be gentle, did then exhort: For glad I was to abide all labour Whereby the less might be my dolour. Wherefore good Father I you humbly desire To have pity of me and some compassion? Or else I am like to lie fast in the mire, Without any succour or consolation: For at this hour I have not a penny, Myself to help in this great misery. For so much as by my advise and counsel In no manner wise thou wouldest be ruled: Therefore to the I can not do well, But let the still suffer, as thou haste deserved For that thou hast suffered, is yet nothing To that tribulation which is behind coming. Alas Father, what shall I do? My wits of themselves can not devise, What thing I were best to go unto, Whereof an honest living may arise: Wherefore gentle Father in this distress, Somewhat assuage mine heaviness. What should I do I can not tell, For now that thou hast taken a wife With me thy father thou mayst not devil, But always with her spend thy life. Thou mayst not again thy wife forsake, Which during life to the thou didst take. Alas I am not able thus to endure Though thereunto I were never so willing: For my wife is of such a crooked nature As no woman else, is this day living, And if the very truth I shall confess She is to me an evil that is endless. If that thou thinkest thyself alone Only to lead this irksome life. Thou mayest learn what grief, sorrow and moan, Socrates had with Xantippa his wife. Her Husband full oft she taunted and checked And as the Book saith unhonestly mocked.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
¶ Haſte thou by proofe ſoone, this thynge tryed? ¶ Yea, alas to much I haue experyenced: My wife, I dyd wed, all full of frenſye, My ſelye poore ſhoulders, hath now ſo brouſed, That lyke to a Creple, I mone me weakly, Beynge full often with the ſtaffe thwacked: She ſpareth no more my fleſſhe and bone, Than if my bodye were made of Stone, Her wyll, her mynde, and her Cōmaundement, From that daye hyther, I haue fulfylled: Which if I dyd not, I was bytterly ſhent, And with many ſtrokes grenouſly punyſſhed: That woulde God the houre when I was maryed, In the midſte of the Church I might haue fynked. I thynke ther is no man vnder the Sonne That here on the earth beareth lyfe: Which wolde do ſuch drudgerye, as I haue done, At the vnkynde wordes of ſuche a wyfe, For howe I was vſed, and in what wyſe A daye to declare wyll not ſuffyſe. Yf this be not true, as I haue ſpoken To my good neyghbours I me reporte, Who ether whyles when I was ſmytten My wyfe to be gentle, dyd then exhorte: For glad I was to abyde all laboure Wherby the leſſe might be my doloure. Wherfore good Father I you humblye deſyre To haue pitye of me and ſome compaſſion? Or els I am lyke to lye faſt in the myre, Without any ſuccoure or conſolation: For at this houre I haue not a peny, My ſelfe to helpe in this great myſerye. ¶ For ſo muche as by my aduyſe and counſell In no maner wyſe thou woldeſt be ruled: Therfore to the I can not do well, But let the ſtyll ſuffre, as thou haſte deſerued For that thou haſt ſuffred, is yet nothynge To that trybulation which is behinde cōmynge. ¶ Alas Father, what ſhall I do? My wyttes of them ſelues can not deuyſe, What thynge I were beſt to goe vnto, Wherof an honeſt lyuynge maye aryſe: Wherfore gentle Father in this diſtreſſe, Somewhat aſwage myne heuynes. ¶ What ſhoulde I do I can not tell, For now that thou haſt taken a wyfe With me thy father thou mayſt not dwell, But alwayes with her ſpende thy lyfe. Thou mayſt not agayne thy wyfe forſake, Which durynge lyfe to the thou dydſt take. ¶ Alas I am not able thus to endure Thoughe therunto I were neuer ſo wyllynge: For my wyfe is of ſuch a crooked nature As no woman els, is this daye lyuynge, And if the verye trueth I ſhall confeſſe She is to me an euyll that is endleſſe. ¶ If that thou thinkeſt thy ſelfe alone Onely to leade this yrkeſome lyfe. Thou maieſt learne what griefe, ſorowe and mone, Socrates had with Xantippa his wyfe. Her Huſbande full ofte ſhe tawnted and checked And as the Booke ſaythe vnhoneſtly mocked.