Chapter 1
‘Ey! goddes mercy!’ seyde our Hoste tho,
‘Now swich a wyf I pray god kepe me fro! Lo, whiche sleightes and subtilitees
In wommen been! for ay as bisy as bees
Ben they, us sely men for to deceyve,
And from a sothe ever wol they weyve; By this Marchauntes Tale it preveth weel. But doutelees, as trewe as any steel
I have a wyf, though that she povre be; But of hir tonge a labbing shrewe is she,
And yet she hath an heep of vyces mo; Ther-of no fors, lat alle swiche thinges go. But, wite ye what? in conseil be it seyd,
Me reweth sore I am un-to hir teyd. For, and I sholde rekenen every vyce
Which that she hath, y-wis, I were to nyce,
And cause why; it sholde reported be
And told to hir of somme of this meynee; Of whom, it nedeth nat for to declare,
Sin wommen connen outen swich chaffare; And eek my wit suffyseth nat ther-to
To tellen al; wherfor my tale is do.’
‘Now swich a wyf I pray god kepe me fro! Lo, whiche sleightes and subtilitees
In wommen been! for ay as bisy as bees
Ben they, us sely men for to deceyve,
And from a sothe ever wol they weyve; By this Marchauntes Tale it preveth weel. But doutelees, as trewe as any steel
I have a wyf, though that she povre be; But of hir tonge a labbing shrewe is she,
And yet she hath an heep of vyces mo; Ther-of no fors, lat alle swiche thinges go. But, wite ye what? in conseil be it seyd,
Me reweth sore I am un-to hir teyd. For, and I sholde rekenen every vyce
Which that she hath, y-wis, I were to nyce,
And cause why; it sholde reported be
And told to hir of somme of this meynee; Of whom, it nedeth nat for to declare,
Sin wommen connen outen swich chaffare; And eek my wit suffyseth nat ther-to
To tellen al; wherfor my tale is do.’