a wife In all the churchë, God so savë me,” “Yea, God amend defaultës, Sir,” quoth she; “Algatës welcome be ye, by my fay.” “ Grand mercy , Dame; that have I found alway. But of your greatë goodness, by your leave, I wouldë pray you that ye not you grieve, I will with Thomas speak a little throw: These curates be so negligent and slow To gropë tenderly a conscience. In shrift and preaching is my diligence And study in Peter’s wordës and in Paul’s; I walk and fishë Christian mennë’s souls, To yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent; To spread his word is allë mine intent.” “Now by your faith, O dearë Sir,” quoth she, “Chide him right well, for saintë charity. He is aye angry as is a pismire, Though that he have all that he can desire, Though I him wrie at night, and make him warm, And ov’r him lay my leg and eke mine arm, He groaneth as our boar that lies in sty: Other disport of him right none have I, I may not please him in no manner case.” “O Thomas, je vous dis , Thomas, Thomas, This maketh the fiend, this must be amended. Ire is a thing that high God hath defended, And thereof will I speak a word or two.” “Now, master,” quoth the wife, “ere that I go, What will ye dine? I will go thereabout.” “Now, Damë,” quoth he, “ je vous dis sans doute , Had I not of a capon but the liver, And of your whitë bread not but a shiver, And after that a roasted piggë’s head, (But I would that for me no beast were dead,) Then had I with you homely suffisánce. I am a man of little sustenánce. My spirit hath its fost’ring in the Bible. My body is aye so ready and penible To wakë, that my stomach is destroy’d. I pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy’d, Though I so friendly you my counsel shew; By God, I would have told it but to few.”
“Now, Sir,” quoth she, “but one word ere I go; My child is dead within these weekës two, Soon after that ye went out of this town.” “His death saw I by revelatioún,” Said this friar, “at home in our dortour. I dare well say, that less than half an hour After his death, I saw him borne to bliss In minë vision, so God me wiss. So did our sexton, and our fermerere, That have been truë friars fifty year— They may now, God be thanked of his love, Makë their jubilee, and walk above. And up I rose, and all our