[The Wanton W]ife of Bath,
[The Tune is,] Flying Fame.
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IN Bath a wanton Wife did dwell,
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as Chaucer he did write,
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Who did in pleasure spend her dayes,
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in many a fond delight.
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Upon a time sore Sick she was,
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and at the length did dye;
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Her Soul at last at Heavens gate;
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did knock most mightily.
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Then Adam came unto the Gate
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who knocketh there, quoth he,
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I am the Wife of Bath, she said,
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and faine would come to thee.
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Thou art a Sinner Adam said,
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and here no place shall have:
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Alas for you, good Sir she said,
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now gip you doting knave.
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I will come in, in spight (she said)
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of all such Churles as thee:
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Thou wast the causer of our woe,
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our paine and misery.
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And first broke Gods Commandements,
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in pleasure of thy Wife:
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When Adam heard her tell this Tale,
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he ranne away for Life.
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Then downe came Jacob to the Gate,
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and bids her pack to Hell:
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Thou false Deceiver, why said she,
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thou maist be there full well.
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For thou deceivest thy Father deare,
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and thine own Brother too;
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Away went Jacob presently,
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and made no more adoe.
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She knocks againe with might and maine,
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and Lot he chides her straight:
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Why then quoth she, thou drunken Asse,
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who bids thee here to waite.
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With thy two Daughters thou didst lye,
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on them two Bastards got;
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And thus most tauntingly she chaft
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against poore silly Lot.
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Who knocketh here quoth Judith then,
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with such shrill sounding notes:
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Alas fine Minkes you cannot heare,
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quoth she, for cutting throats.
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Good Lord how Judith blusht for shame,
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when she heard her say so:
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King David hearing of the same,
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he to the Gate did goe.
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Quoth David, who knocks here so lowd,
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and maketh all this strife:
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You were more kind good Sir, said she,
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unto Uriahs Wife.
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And when thou caused thy Servants
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in Battaile to be slaine:
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Thou caused then more strife then I,
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who would come here so faine.
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The second Part, To the same tune.
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THe womans mad said Solomon,
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that thus doth taunt a King:
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Not halfe so mad as you (she said)
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I know in many a thing.
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Thou hadst seven hundred Wives at once,
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for whom thou didst provide:
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And for all this three hundred Whores,
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thou didst maintaine beside.
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And those made thee forsake thy GOD,
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and worship stocks and Stones:
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Besides the charge they put thee to,
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by breeding of young bones.
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Hadst thou not been besides thy wits,
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thou wouldst not thus have ventred:
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And therefore I doe marvell much,
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how thou this place have entred.
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I never heard quoth Jonas (then)
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so vile a Scold as this;
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Thou whorson Run-away (quoth she)
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thou diddest more amis.
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I thinke quoth Thomas, Womens tongues
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of Aspan leaves be made:
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Thou unbeleeving wretch, quoth she,
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all is not true thats said.
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When Mary Magdalen heard then,
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did come unto the Gate;
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Quoth she good Woman you must thinke
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upon your former state.
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No Sinner enters in this place,
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quoth Mary Magdalen then,
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Twere ill for you faire Mistris mine,
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she answered her againe.
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You for your honesty, quoth she,
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should once be stond to death:
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Had not our Saviour Christ come by
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and written on the Earth.
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It is not by your occupation,
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you are become Divine:
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I hope my Soul in Christs passion,
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shall be as safe as thine.
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Then rose the good Apastle Paul,
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unto this Wife he said:
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Except thou shake thy sinnes away,
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thou here shall be denyd.
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Remember Paul what thou hast done,
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although a lewd desire:
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How thou did persecute Gods Church,
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with wrath as hot as fire.
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Then up starts Peter at the last,
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and to the Gate he hyes:
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Fond foole quoth he, knock not so fast,
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thou weariest Christ with cryes.
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Peter, said she, content thy selfe,
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for mercy may be won:
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I never did deny my Christ,
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as thou thy selfe hast done.
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When as our Saviour Christ heard this,
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with heavenly Angels bright;
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He comes unto this sinfull Soule,
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who trembled at his sight.
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Of him for mercy, she did crave,
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quoth he, thou hast refusd;
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My proffer, Grace and mercy both,
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and much my Name abusd.
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Sore have I sinned, Oh Lord, said she,
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and spent my time in vaine:
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But bring me like a wandring Sheepe,
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unto thy Flock againe.
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O Lord my God, I will amend
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my former wicked vice:
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The Thiefe at these poore silly words,
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past into Paradice.
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My Laws and my Commandements,
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saith Christ, were knowne to thee:
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But of the same in any wise,
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not yet one word did yee.
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I grant the same, Oh Lord (quoth she)
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most lewdly did I live:
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But yet the loving Father did
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his prodigall Son forgive.
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And I forgive thy Soule, he said,
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through thy repentant cry;
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Come therefore enter into my joyes,
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I will thee not deny.
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