For now of newé, for their prow, [88b]  The wivés of full high prudénce Have of assent made their avow T’ exile for ever patiénce, And cried wolfs-head obedience, To maké Chichevaché fail Of them to findé more vitail.

Now Chichevaché may fast long And die for all her cruelty, Women have made themselves so strong For to outrage humility. O silly husbands, wo ben ye! Such as can have no patiénce Against your wivés violence.

If that ye suffer, ye be but dead, Bicorn awaiteth you so sore; Eke of your wives go stand in dread, If ye gainsay them any more! And thus ye stand, and have done yore, Of life and death betwixt coveyne [89]  Linkéd in a double chain.

p. 91Best to be Blyth.

p. 91

By WILLIAM DUNBAR.

By

Full oft I muse, and hes in thocht How this fals Warld is ay on flocht, Quhair [91a] no thing ferme is nor degest; [91d] And when I haif my mynd all socht, For to be blyth me think it best.

Full

This warld ever dois flicht and wary, [91b] Fortoun sa fast hir quheill dois cary, Na tyme but [91e] turning can tak rest; For quhois fats change suld none be sary, For to be blyth me think it best.

Wald men considdir in mynd richt weill, Or Fortoun on him turn hir quheill, That erdly honour may nocht lest, His fall less panefull he suld feill; For to be blyth me think it best.

Quha with this warld dois warsill [91c] and stryfe, And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe, Thocht he in lordschip be possest, He levis bot ane wrechit lyfe:  For to be blyth me think it best.

Off warldis gud and grit richess, Quhat fruct hes man but merriness? Thocht he this warld had eist and west, All wer povertie but glaidness:  For to be blyth me think it best.

Quho suld for tynsall [92a] drowp or de, For thyng that is bot vanitie; Sen to the lyfe that evir dois lest, Heir is bot twynkling of an ee:  For to be blyth me 

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