The Wanton WIFE of BATH.
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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 die,
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Her soul arriv'd at heaven's gate,
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And there knock'd heartily.
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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 trip you doating knave.
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I will come in, in spite she said,
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Of all such churls as thee:
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Thou wer't the cause of all our woe,
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Our pain and misery.
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And first broke God's commandment,
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In pleasure with thy wife.
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When Adam heard her tell that tale,
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He ran away for life.
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Then down came Jacob to the gate,
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Who bid her pack to hell.
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You false deceiver, why, said she,
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You might be there as well.
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For you deceiv'd your father dear,
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And your own brother too.
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So away went Jacob presently,
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And made no more ado.
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She knock'd again with might and main,
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How now quoth she, thou doating ass,
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Who bid thee here to wait?
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With thy two daughters thou didst lie,
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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 knocketh there, quoth Judith then,
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With such shrill sounding notes?
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This noise, fine minx, thou cannot bear,
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Quoth she, for cutting throats.
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Good Lord, how Judith blush'd 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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Unto the gate did go.
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Quoth David, who knocks there so loud,
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And causeth all this strife?
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You were more kind, good sir, said she,
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Unto Uriah's wife.
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When thou didst cause thy servant
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In battle to be slain;
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You caused then more strife than I,
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Who would come here so fain.
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The woman's mad, quoth Solomon,
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Thus for to taunt a King!
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Not half so mad as you, said she,
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I know in many things.
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You had seven hundred wives, she said,
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For whom th[o]u didst provide;
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Yet for all this three hundred whores,
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Thou didst mantain beside.
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And these 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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In breeding of young bones.
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Hadst thou not been beside thy wits,
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Thou wouldst not thus have ventur'd;
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And therefore I do marvel much
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How thou this place has enter'd.
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I never heard, quoth Jonas then,
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So vile a scold as this:
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You whoreson run away quoth she,
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Thou didst more amiss.
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I think quoth Thomas, women's tongues
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Of aspen leaves are made.
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You disbelieving wretch, she said,
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All is not true that's said.
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When Mary Magdalen heard her chafe,
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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 enter in this place,
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Quoth Mary Magdalen.
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'Twere ill for you, fair mistress mild,
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She answer'd her again.
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You for your honesty, said she,
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Should once been ston'd to death,
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Had not our Saviour Christ came by,
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And wrote[ upon] the earth.
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It is not thro' your occupation
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You are become divine:
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My soul in Christ's passion
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Will be as safe as thine.
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Then rose the good apostle Paul,
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Unto the wife he cry'd,
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Except you shake your sins away,
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Thou here must be deny'd.
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Remember Paul what thou hast done,
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All thro' a leud desire;
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How thou didst prosecute God's 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 hies;
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Fond fool, said he, knock not so fast,
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Thou weariest Christ with cries.
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Peter, she cries, content thyself,
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For mercy may be won;
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I never did deny my Lord,
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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 came unto this sinful soul,
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Who trembled at the sight.
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Of him for mercy she did crave.
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Quoth he, Thou hast refus'd
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My proffer'd grace and mercy both,
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And much my name abus'd.
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Sure have I sinn'd, O Lord, she said,
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And spent my time in vain;
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But bring me like a wandering sheep
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Into thy fold 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 Paradice.
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My laws and my commandments,
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Said Christ, were known to thee,
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But of the same in any wise
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Not yet a whit did ye.
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I grant the same, O Lord, she said,
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Most leudly I did live;
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But yet the loving father did
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The prodigal son forgive.
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So I forgive thy soul, he said,
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Thro' thy repenting cry;
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Come thou therefore into my rest,
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I will not thee deny.
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