THE WANTON WIFE OF BAITH.
To the Tune of, Flying Fame.
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IN Baith 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 Baith, 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 shalt have.
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Alace! 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 wo,
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our pain and miserie:
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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 ran away for life.
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Then down 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 may'st be there full well:
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For thou deceiv'dst 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 asse,
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who bids thee here to wait?
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With thy two Daughters thou didst ly,
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on them two bastards got:
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And thus most tauntingly she chaft
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against poor silly Lot.
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Who knocketh here, quoth Judeth then,
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with such shrill sounding notes?
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Alace! fine Minkes, you cannot hear,
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quoth she, for cutting throats.
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Good Lord, how Judeth 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 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 servant
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in battel to be slain:
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Thou caused then more strife then I,
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who would come here so fain.
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The woman's mad, said Solomon,
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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 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 maintain 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 do marvel much,
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how thou this place hast 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 whore-son run-away, 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 be made.
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Thou unbeleeving wretch, quoth she,
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all is not true that's said.
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When 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 Mistris mine,
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she answered her again.
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You for your honesty, quoth she,
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should once been ston'd 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 Christ's 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 deny'd.
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Remember, Paul, what thou hast done,
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all through 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 hyes:
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Fond fool, quoth he, knock not so fast
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thou weariest Christ with cryes.
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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 sinfull 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 refus'd
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My proffer, grace, and mercy both,
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and much my Name abus'd.
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Sore have I sinn'd, Oh, Lord, said she
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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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unto 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 Paradice.
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My Laws and my Commandements,
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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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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 prodigal son forgive.
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And I forgive thy soul, he said,
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through thy repentant cry:
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Come therefore enter in my joyes,
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I will thee not deny.
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