Wanton Wife of Bath.
Tune of, Flying Fame, etc. Licensd and Enterd.
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IN Bath a wanton wife did dwell,
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as Chaucer he doth write;
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Who did in pleasure spend her days,
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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 to 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 fain 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 spight, she said,
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of all such churles as thee;
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Thou were the causer of our woe,
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and our pain and misery;
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And first broke Gods commandments,
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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 ran away for life.
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Then down came Jacob at 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 as well;
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For thou deceivd thy father dear,
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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 ado.
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She knocks again with might and main,
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and Lot he chides her straight:
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Why then, quoth she, thou drunken ass,
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who bids thee here to wait?
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With thy two daughters thou did lye,
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on them two bastards got;
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And thus most tauntingly she chast
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against poor silly Lot.
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Who knocks there, quoth Judith then
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with such shrill sounding notes?
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This, fine minks, you cannot hear,
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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 go.
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Quoth David, Who knocks there so loud,
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and maketh all this strife?
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You were more kind, good Sir, she said,
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unto Uriahs wife:
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And when thou causedst thy servant
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in battle to be slain,
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Thou caused then more strife then I,
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who would come her so fain.
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The womans mad, said Solomin,
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that thus doth taunt a King:
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Not half 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,
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for whom thou didst provide,
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For all this, three hundred whores,
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thou didst maintain beside;
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And those made thee forsake thy God,
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and worship flocks and stones,
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Besides the charge they put thee to
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in breeding of young bones:
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Hadst thou not been besides thy wits,
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thou wouldst not have ventured;
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And therefore I do marvel much,
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how thou this place have enterd.
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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 runaway, quoth she,
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thou diddest more amiss.
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I think, quoth Thomas, womens tongues
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of aspen-leaves are made.
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Thou unbelieving wretch, quoth she,
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all is not true thats said.
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Then Mary Magdalen heard then,
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she came unto the gate.
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Quoth she, Good-woman, you must think
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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, fair mistress mild,
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she answered her again;
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You for your honesty, quoth she,
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should once be stoned 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 was not 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 apostle Paul,
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unto this wife he said,
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Except thou shake thy sins away,
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thou here shalt 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 didst 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 highs,
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Fond fool, quoth he, knock not so fast,
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thou weariest Christ with cries.
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Peter, said she, content thyself,
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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 thyself 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 sinful soul,
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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 refused
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My profferd grace, and mercy both,
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and much my name abused.
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Sure have I sinned, O Lord, she said,
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and spent my time in vain,
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But bring me like a wandring sheep
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into thy flock again:
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O Lord my God, I will amend
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my former wicked vice:
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The thief at these poor silly words,
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past into paradise.
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My laws and my commandments,
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saith Christ, were known to thee,
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But of the same, in any wise,
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nor yet one word did ye.
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grant the same, O 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 prodigal son forgive.
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So I forgive thy soul, he said,
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through thy repenting cry;
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Come you therefore into my joy,
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I will not thee deny.
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