Women Poems - Poems For Women
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Here Begynneth The Scole House Of Women - Poem by Edward Gosynhyll
The prouerbe olde, who so denieth
In my conceyte, doth greatly arre
Both wyt and dyscrecyon, yl he applyeth
That thynge of treueth, wolde debarre
Howe be it that folke, presume so farre
Wherby the treweth, is often blamed
Yet in no wyse, treweth may be shamed.
A fole of late, contryued a boke
And all in prayse of the femynye
Who so taketh laboure, it to out loke
Shal proue, all is but flaterye
Pehan he calleth it, it maye well be
The Pecocke is prowdest, of hys fayre tayle
And so ben all women, of theyr apparayle.
Wherfore as nowe, in thys treatyse
What so be sayde, in rude sentence
Uertue to increase, and to lay vyce
Is chefe occasion, of my pretence
And where that treweth is, is none offence
Who so therfore, that blameth me
I saye he demeth wrongfullye.
Perchauce the women, take displeasure
Bycause I rubbe them, on the gall
To them that good be, paraduenture
It shall not be materyall
The other sorte, no force at all
Say what they wyll, or bendeth the brewe
Them selfe shall proue, my saynge trewe.
Eche other man, in generall
And name those that maryed be
Gyue euident, testimonyall
Affermynge the same, yf I wolde lye
And thus reporte, that femynye
Ben euyll to please, and worse to truste
Crabbed & comberous, when them selfe luste.
Haue tonge at large, voyce loude & shryl
Of wordes wounderous, passynge store
Stomacke stoute, with frowarde wyll
And namely, when ye touche the sore
With one bare worde, or lyttell more
Thee flusshe and flame, as hote as fyre
And swell as a tode for feruent yre.
And where they here, one word ye soudeth
Lyttell agaynst; theyr lewede behauyoure
And twyse so moche els, whiche ye redoundeth
To theyr hye prayse, ye maye be sure
So lyght of eare they be and sowre
That of the better, they neuer recorde
The worse reherse they, worde by worde.
It were moche hurte, for to dyscrye
The propertyes all, of the feminie kynde
Howe be it a man maye, coniecture nye
And saye also, as experyence doth bynde
That very fewe, there be to fynde
But that thei can, how so euer the mater stade
Bere fyre and water, bothe in one hande.
Enuacyons they haue, faynt and feble
Them to excuse, of duplicite
As thoughe, they were, inuencible
Spotted, in any wyse to be
And with othes so craftelye
They shal be forgyd, on suche a grounde
As all thynge were, both hole and sounde,
And be it in earnyst, or els in Iape
Lo to them it is, one maner of thynge
Surely nought els, they after gape
But euermore, in comminge
To let a man, of hys sayenge
Reason wyll they not attende
But tell theyr owne tale to the ende.
And for to saye, most commonly
Thys vyce, is appropryat to them all
For let a man, to them replye
In reasonyng, of matters small
These women, be so sensuall
That by theyr reason, not worth a torde
Yet wyll the woman, haue the last worde.
There maye no reason, theyrs debarre
Nor none example, can them conuerte
They stody algate, to be at warre
And wyth euyll sawes, to be ouerthwarde
Malyce is so rooted, in theyr harte
That seldome a man, maye of them here
One good worde in a whole longe yere.
Albeit the nombre, of them are great
Yet doth theyr foly, farre excede
For all is fysshe, that commeth to net
In case that they of theyr mynde spede
Broche rynge, cloth or threde
Shame haue they none, to terre or snatche
All is theyr owne, that the maye catche.
Wat so it be, they fenger ones
Of wedded man, or syngle playne
He may as soone eate, the Adamunde stone
As the selfe same, of them to retayne
Moche they craue, and nought gyue agayne
As holsome for a man, is a womans corse
As a shulder of motton, for a sycke horse.
And yet we may not, them longe mysse
For many sondry, commodytyes
So trycke a waye, they haue to kysse
With open mouthe, and rowlynge iyes
Tongue to tongue, dyscole-thyes
One and other, commonlye
Haue in such case, lyke propertye.
That harde it were, in myne opynyon
If god hym selfe, wolde company kepe
But that wolde, brynge hym vpon
Wakynge, or els a slepe
Dysplease them ones, and then they wepe
By meane wherof, sone doth the cure
Yonge fooles to kepe, longe in vre.
And while, the woynge tyme doth last
I miane with then, that maydens be
Loth to displease, loue sure and fast
Are what ye wyll, and spede maye ye
Fewe or none, for the moste partye
Gently entreated, deny you can
Within her tables, to enter your man.
That done they saye, that ye dyd make
Promysse to them, by good assurance
Them to mary, and to wyues take
Els had ye not, had suche dalyaunce
And all is for feare, of good vtteraunce
In case the bely, do not swell
They holde them pleased, and all is well.
Yet muste ye be, at farther daunger
If ye do entende to vse them ofte
Kepe them bothe at racke, and maunger
Arraye them well, and laye them softe
Yet shall another man, come alofte
Haue you ones turned, your iye and backe
An other she wyl haue, to smycke and smacke.
Perchaunce the bely, may ryse wyth all
Then wyll they swere, and steare a pase
That thyne is it, when it doth fall
Be it malary borne or base
Loke they saye, on thyne owne face
Beholde well, bothe nose ad iye
Nature it selfe, the father wyll trye.
And other there is, to synguler grace
Gyuen vnto the babe, for the one
Or sure it is, a maruelous face
That god hath gyuen, vnto the mone
For were thy .xx. they muste eche one
Loke the streyght, eyther els a shore
Be lyke the father, lesse and more.
And when they are ones, waxen swall
And able to ryde, or els to go
Unto lyke acte, agayne they fall
As who wolde saye, you felte no wo
Yf ye renounce, kindenes to sho
Then must ye send the, to some straunge place
As good a mayde, as she before was
Then yf theyr come, a louer newe
And them appoynte whyter to come
They be lyke redy vnto the mewe
And to be close, from wynde and sonne
With lyttell laboure, they are soone wonne
Not one I warrant you, amonges twentye
But she efte sones, wyll be as redye.
Wed them ones, and then adewe
Farewell al truste, and huswyferye
Kepe theyr chambres, and them selfe mewe
For staninge of her fysnamye
And in theyr bed, all daye do lye
Muste ones or twyse, euery weke
Fayne them selfe, for to besycke.
Send for thys, and sende for that
Lyttell or nothynge, may them please
Come in good gossyp, and kepe me that
I trust it shall do me great ease
Complayne of many a sondry dyssease
A gossyps cuppe, betwene vs twayne
Tyll she begotten vp agayne.
Then must she haue, maydes two or thre
That may then gossyps, togyter brynge
Set them to laboure, to blere the iye
Them selfe wyll nother, wasshe ne wrynge
Bake ne brewe, nor other thinge
Syt by the fyre, let the maydens trot
Brewe of the best, in a halfpeny pot.
Playe who wyll, the man must laboure
And brynge to house, all that he may
The wyfe agayne, doth nought but glauoure
And holde him vp, with ye and nay
But of her cuppe, he shall not assay
Other she sayeth, it is to thyn
Or els ywys, there is nothyng in.
And when these gossyps, are ones met
Of euery tale, and newe tydinge
They bable fast, and nothynge forget
They put I warrant, betwene rydynge
Thus lerne the yonger, of the elders guiding
Day by day, kepynge suche scoles
The symple men, the make as foles.
Them selfe alway, do make good chere
With one or other, they neuer rest
Our Iohn shall pay, that is not best
Howe say ye gossyp, is it not best
I beshrewe his hert, nowe is he blest
He bette me gossyp, I may tell you
That yet I am both blacke and blewe.
Thus out it shall, what so it be
Good or badde, all is one thynge
Who so euer commeth to memorye
Shal not he loke, for the tellynge
God wot they make, many a lesynge
It doth theyr stomacke, greatly ease
To serue what may, theyr husbades displease.
The yonge complayneth vnto the olde
Somwat to ease, theyr hertes therby
The elder sayth, good gooshyp be bolde
To shewe your mynde, wholly to me
Fere it not, ye knowe pardye
That I haue ben, bath olde and yonge
Both close and sure, of tayle and tonge.
Than sayth the yonger, I may tell you
I am so matched, as no woman is
Of all thys night, tyll the cocke crewe
He wolde not ones turne, me for to kysse
Euery nyght he ryseth to pysse
And whan he commeth, agayne vnwarme
Doth turne his ars, in to my harme.
Lappeth hym selfe, rounde all aboute
And thrusteth me out of my place
Leueth me scandly, one rage or cloute
To couer and cast, ouer my face
Ful lyttell maner, gossyp he hase
The moste vnkyndest, man haue I
That euer woman, layde her by.
And he the daye, neuer so longe
He doth nothyng, but chyde and brawle
yee yee gossyp, the more is my wronge
Hore and harlot, he doth me call
And byddes me gossyp, scrappe and scrall
And for my lyuynge, labour and swete
For as of hym, no peny, I gete.
I was a curste, or els starke mad
And when I maryed, wyth hym vnwyse
I may tell you, I myght haue had
Another maner of man, then he is
If I had folowed, my frendes aduyse
I shulde haue had a mynyan
A man of lande, a gentilman.
The deuyll gossyp, ought me a shame
And prayde I am nowe, euerye penye
I wolde god he had, be blinde and lame
The daye and houre, he fyrste woed me
Ware not gossyp, these chyldren thre
I wolde not tary, ye may be sure
Longer with hym, daye ne houre.
Than sayth the elder, do as I do
Be sharpe and quicke, wyth hym agayne
If that he chyde, chyde you also.
And for one worde, gyue hym twayne
Kepe hym shorte, and haue disdayne
He shulde vse you, after suche rate.
Byd hym be styll, wyth on euell date.
Cherysshe your selfe, all that ye maye
And drawe vnto, good company
Cast not your selfe, gossyp a waye
Bycause he playeth, the churle with the
And by your wyll, kepe hym hungrye
And byd hym go, when he wolde game
Unto his customers, god gyue hym shame.
Be euer with hym, at yea and naye
And by your wyll, begyn the warre
If he wolde smyte, then maye ye saye
Go to hartely, yf thou so dare
I beshrewe thy herte, yf that thou spare
All the worlde, shall wonder on the
Howe thou dost wreke, thy tene of me.
Bycause thou hast be, at the dyse
And playde awaye, all that thou hast
Or from thy gyllottes, thou coulde not ryse
Of all thys daye, ye sat so fast
And nowe god gyue the shame at last
Commest dronken home, with a myschefe
And woldest be reuenged, vpon thy wyfe.
Better ywys, to holde thy hande
And more for thyne honestye
I had leuer thy necke, were in a bande
Than I wolde take it, longe of the.
Truste me I will fynde, remedye
Smyte and thou dare, I make god auowe
I wyll quyte it, I wote well howe.
In case there be, no remedye
But that ye muste, haue strokes sadde
Take vp the babe, that then is nye
Be it whence, or be it ladde
And byd hym stryke, yf he be madde
Smyte hardely, and kyll thy sone
And ange therfore, when thou hast done.
Thus euer among, they kepe such scoles
The yonge to drawe, after the olde
Motynge euer, vppon theyr stoles
Of euery matter, that they haue wolde
By meane wherof, the yonge waxe bolde
So that within, a moneth they be
Quarter mayster, or more then he.
Truly some men, there be
That lyue alwaye, in great honoure
And saye it goeth, by destenye
To hange or wed, both hath but one houre
And whether it be, I am well sure
Hangynge is better, of the twayne
Sooner done, and shorter payne.
On pilgremage, then must they go
To wylsdon, barkynge, or to some allowes
Perchaunce be forth, a night or two
One fote for weringe, or horse showes
A vyage make, vnto the stewes
And neyther knele, to stones ne stockes
But the offerynge take, with a quycke boxe.
Somtyme also, licence they craue
To be wt some neighbour, i the mydwiues stede
And all to the ende, some other knaue
Shall dubbe, her husbande, a sommer byrde
The trewth is knowen, it can not be hydde
Albeyt that fewe men, do hym here
The Kocko syngeth, euery yere.
They haue also, another cast
In case the husbande, be present
The childe I warrant, shall be bast
And to her louer, ther with sent
The sely man, none euill ment
Regardeth lyttell, or nothynge this
Howe by the babe, she sendes her kys
And for she wolde, be rekened trewe
The matter to cloke, more craftelye
Her kynsman call hym, I warrant you
And all to blere, the husbandes iye
God wote the blynde, eateth many a flye
So doth the husbande, often ywys
Father the chylde, that is not his.
Trym them selfe, euery daye newe
And in their glasses, pore and prye
Plat and plant, and their herles hewe
And all to make it, for the iye
The fynesse ware, that thei maye bye
And all that euer, they may ymagyne
Is to enlure, the masculyne.
Plant them rounde, with many a pyn
Rynged for to routing, of pure golde
Fayre without, and foule within
and of theyr tayles, haue slypper holde
Bye who wyll, ware wyll be solde
Ye nede go no farther, the fayre is here.
Bye when ye lyst, it lasteth ouer yere.
Spare for no cost, but drynke of the best
and also, of euery deyntye eate
Hote in operacyon, and lyght to dygest
Nature to prouoke, and set on a heate
Oysters, Kocles, & els what they may gete
Now this, now that, and fayne them selfe sicke
Such thynges to receyue, as for the phisicke.
By meanes, wherof, Tyresyas
arbyther chose, the trewth to dyscus
Gyue Iudgement playne, in thys case
That the woman is farre more lecherous
Gallus galinus ter quinqque suffecit vnus
Set ther quinqque viri
Non sufficiunt muleri.
In case they wolde, ought of you craue
a none they wepe, or lowre a pase
and say that they, can nothyng haue
Them to apparell, as other wyues hase
Trust not ouer moche, theyr mornynge face
Recorde ynaught, of Sampsons two wyues
Who foloweth their myndes, seldom thryues.
Albei the byrder with hys bleryed iye
Dysemble sorowe with his sad face
Yet is there no byrde, he maye come by
By his engynest, that may haue grace
By women is foloweth, in semblable case
Wepe they or loughe they, all is one thynge
They deale most craftly, when they be weping.
And yet amonge, who so wyll thryue
and office bere, in towne and citye
Muste nedes be ruled, by his wyue
Or els in fay, it wyll not be
The wyfe muste able hym, to the degre
able or vnable, lyttell careth she
Bycause her selfe, wolde honoured be.
Feare not she fayth, vnto her spouse
a man or a mowse, whether be ye
Shulde ye your honesty, refuse
and be as lyke, as other men be
In person, and in eche degre
Take it vpon you, do not refuse
and I my selfe, wyll fynde your house.
So by the meane, of her counsayle
The man maye not the office forsake
Bycause the wyfe, wolde haue a tayle
Come rakinge after, and a bonet blacke
a veluet heade, and also be take
With the best, and not the worste
The man must be ruled, tyll al be in the dust.
Of all the dyseases, that euer wore
Weddynge is nexte, vnto the gowte
a salue there is, for euery sore
To helpe a man, within, or withoute
But of these twayne, I am in dowte
No payne so feruent, hote ne colde
as is a man, to be called Cokolde.
And be he neuer, so ferefull to fraye
So starke a cowarde, yet wyll he rage
And drawe his knyfe, euen strayght waye
Be he neuer, so farre in age
Call hym ones Cokolde, and hys corage
Forth with wyl kindle, and force hym stryke
Whorse then ye named him heretike.
And syth, there is no salue therfore
It putteth many, a man in fere
To be infect, with the selfe same sore
Howe well so euer, they them bere
Good token haue they, also els where
That who so euer, weddeth a wyfe
Is sure of sorowe, all his lyfe.
Of Socrates, the pacient
Example good, of his wiues twayne
Whiche on a tyme, fyll at dissent
And vnto him, dyd them complayne
He laughed therat, and they agayne
Fall both on him, with and euyl date
A pyspot they brake, vpon his pate.
He helde hym pleased, and well content
The pysse ran downe, by hys chekes twayne
Wel wyst I (sayde he) what it ment
And trewe it is that all men sayne
That after thondre, commeth rayne
Who hath a wyfe, is sure to fynde
At home in hys house, many a sowe wynde.
A certayne wyfe, sayde to me ones
I wolde thou kneue it, god made vs
Neyther of earth, stocke, ne stoens
But of a thynge, moche precyous
Of a ribbe of a man, scripture sayth thus
Because the woman, in euery nede
Shulde be helpe to the man, in worde & dede.
Man made of earth, and woman of man
As of a thynge, moste principall
Whiche argueth well, sayth she then
By iudgemente iuste, and reason naturall
That we be euer, substanciall
And yet ye men, of vs bable
That women alwayes, are varyable.
Whiche thinge, as farre as I se can
Shulde be employed, rather to you
Syth of the earth, god create man
And figures therof maketh euer newe
Nature thus nature, me semeth nowe
Must nedes, his first oryginall
Ensewe, or be vnnaturall.
As ye say (sayde I) helpe hym well
Euyll to thryue, and worse to fare
Who was the cause, that Adam fell
His wyfe or no? I make you ware
One and other, lyttell ye care
So ye maye haue, that ye desyre
Though dun, and the packe, lye in the myre.
Made of a bone, ye sayde ye were
Therwith it is, I can not denaye
Crokyt it was, styffe and sturdye
And that wolde bende, no maner of waye
Of nature lyke, I dare well saye
Of that condition, all women be
Euyll to rule, both styffe and sturdye.
And ouer that, who listeth to trye
Put me two bones, in a bagge
Or mo, as it is of quantyte
That done, holde it somwhat sagge
Sake it also, that it maye wagge
And ye shall here, none other matter
Of these bones, but clytter clatter.
Lyke so of women, in felde and towne
Assembled where that manye be
A man may here them by the sowne
Father farre, then thei ye maye se
Wherfore men saye most commenlye
Where many gese be, be many tordes
And where be women, are many wordes.
And so the husbande is lyke to haue
A syngulyer treasure of hys wyfe
He nedeth neuer; an yll worde to craue
All the dayes; of hys longe lyfe
Hath not that man, a perogatiue
That maye alwaye, of hys wyfe haue
A thynge of nought, and it not craue.
And commonly, where cause is none.
Some thynge ymagyned; is kept in store
Whych that she may, come the good man home
Wyth spytefull spyryte, laye hym before
Of lytell or nought, they make muche more
And be it true, or false they tell
All is sothed, as the gospell.
And yet the ryppe, as I suppose
That god dyd take, out of the man
A dogge vp caught, and away gose
Eate it cleane, so that as than
The worke to fynysshe, that god began
Coulde not be as we haue sayde
Bycause the dogge the rybbe conueyed.
A remedy god founde as yet,
Out of the dogge, he toke a rybbe
The woman forthwyth, he made of it
As to the man, neyther kynne nor sybbe
Nature she foloweth, and playeth the gybbe
And at her husbande, doth barke and ball
As doth the curre, for nought at all
Another reason, yf ye marke well
Doth cause the woman, of wordes be riue
A certayne man, as fortune fell
A woman tongeles, wedded to wyue
whose frouning coutenauce, perceiuing be liue
Tyl he myght know what she ment, he thought longe
And wysshed ful oft, she had a tonge.
The deuyl was redy, and apered anone
An aspin lefe, he had the man take
And in her mouth, shulde put but one
A tounge sayde the deuyll, it shall her make
Tyll he had done, his heed dyd ake
Leues he gathered, and toke plentye
And in her mouth, put two or three.
Within a while, the medicine wrought
The man coulde, tary, no longer tyme
But wakened her, to thende he mought
The vertue proue, of the medicine
The fyrste worde, she spake to hym
She sayde thou horeson, knaue and thife
How durst thou waken me, with a michsyfe.
Fro that day forwarde, she neuer ceased
Her boyster bable, greued hym sore
The deuyll he met, and hym entreated
To make her tongles, as she was before
Not so sayd the deuyll, I well medle nomore
I deuyll a woman to speke may constrayne
But all that in hell be, can not let it agayne.
And by profe, daylye we se
What inclynacyon, nature maketh
The aspyn lefe, hangynge where it be
With lytell wynde, or none it shaketh
A womans tonge, in lyke wyse taketh
Lyttel ease, and littel rest
For yf it shulde, the herte wolde brest.
Loke whan the see, doth water want
Nor no wynde bloweth, the mylne to walke
Then Ethna hyll, of fyre is scant
The Crowe white, and blacke is chalke
When women cease wyll, of theyr talke
It is lyke propryed, all women to bable
As dogges to barke, and geese to gagle.
And that more is, all men saye
That woman to man, is most comforte
Howe be it they meane it, another waye
And say she is, mannes vtter extorte
And ouer that by iuste reporte
The smaller pease, the mo to the pot.
The fayrer woman, the more gyllot.
The fayrer of face, the prouder of harte
The lother to woo, the sooner won
The lesse of speche, the more ouer thwarte
Not one so daungerous, as is dame dun
The fowler she is, the sooner it is done
So shorte of hele, they be ouer al
That and yf ye blowe, thy must nedes fal.
By meane wherof, al men reporte
And saye that women, can not be stable
For be one gone, and an other resorte
And profereth them, thynge seruiable
Our fylye is setled, vnto the sadle
Ryde who wyll, shod is our mare
and thus they eschaunge, ware for ware.
In case thou woldest not, haue it so
But rather fynde, euery thynge wel
I counsayle the, before thou go
Forth of the towne, to crowche and knell
And offre a candell, to the deuyll
Parcase the wyfe, wolde be salewde
He wolde for set it, al be shrewed.
Example therof, that was thys
A certayne man, from home shulde ryde
whiche fearynge his wyfe, wolde do amys
To an ymage of Sathan, vpon a wall syde
Offered a candall, and that was espied
And sayde syr Sathan, nowe I charge the
My wyfe in myne absence, thou do ouer se
Hys iorney ended, came home agayne
And the selfe ymage, went strayght vnto
The deuil hym shewed, euery thyng playne
Howe he had let, that shulde haue be do
And from her backwarde, drawen one or two
The daungerest cure, that euer he had
was to kepe good, that wolde haue he bad.
Another thynge, as pryncipal
Be not with her, in Ialosye
what mysaduenture, so euer befall
Forbyd her, no mannes companye
Nor yet rebuke her syngulerlye
In case thou do, though thou haddest sworne
A blast shalt thou blowe, in Nynerus horne.
For as we se, by experyence
Euery daye, before our iye
And by reporte, of men of credence
For the moste parte, the femynye
By theyr innatyue, destynye
Fyrste and formest, when they be chyd
wyll that thynge do, they be forbyd.
And ouer that they wyse present
I counsayle the, be wyse and ware
Thou prayse no other mannes Instrument
Better than thyne owne, berynge ware
For yf thou do she wyll not spare
Were it neuer, so naturall a foole
Tyll she assayed, the selfe same toole.
So frayle they be, of disposicion
So croked, so crabbed, with that so euill
So lewde, so shrewde, lyght of condicion
That sure it ware vnpossible
To let them, of there owne selfe will
And but it come, of their owne mynde
A ma were as good, throw stones at ye winde.
Say what ye wyl, they wyll do as they lust
The profe therof, in a certayne fable
A husbande man hauinge good trust
His wife to him, had be agreable
Thought to attempt, yf she had be reformable
Bad her take the potte, that sod ouer the fyre
And set it aboue, vpon the astyre.
She answered hym, I holde the mad
And I more foole, by saynt Martyne
Thy dyner is redy, as thou me bad
And tyme it were, that thou shulde dyne
And thou wyl not, I wyl go to myne
I byd the sayde he, bere vp the potte
A ha she sayde, I trowe thou dote.
Up she goeth, for fere at last
No question moued, where it shulde stande
Upon hys heed, the potage she cast
And helde the potte, styl in her hande
And towarde hym, she curste and bande
Sayde and sware, he myght her trust
She wolde wyth the potage, do what her lust.
No remedy, to discontent
To pratle to them, of reason or lawe
For be a womans purpose bent
Nothing preuayled, to with drawe
Nor yet to kepe them, vnder awe
Gyue them counsaile, the best ye can
They wyl folowe theyr owne wyl now & than.
Loke of discrecion, fewe womanly
And to the were, fewe profitable
Not thre I dare saye, amonge thyrty
That be discrete, and reasonable
And yet alwayes, the byble bable
Of euery mater, and make it nyse
And in conclusyon, be wonderous peuysshe.
As holy saintes, in churche they be
And in strete, as aungelles they where
At home, for all theyr ypocrysye
A deuyllysshe lyfe, they lede all the yere
When lenton commeth, then to the frere
The frere lymlyfter, for a praye of pence
Wyll for all causes, with them dispence.
And that more is, I dare auowe
That yf thy wyfe, dyspleasure take
Be it right or wronge, yet thou
Muste nedes of force, for theyr wyues sake
Fight and fraye, and hye wordes crake
Swere and stare, as who wolde saye
Thou woldest not let, to kyll and slaye.
In case thou take, the matter lyght
As a man of peace, loue and concorde
Then wyll she wepe, anone forth ryght
And gyue the many, and euyll worde
and byd the gyrd, to the thy sworde
and saye yf I, had maryed a mon
This thynge shulde not, be longe vndon,
Recorde, the wycked Iesabell
whyche wolde haue slayne, good Helyas
Recorde also, of the gospel
The wyfe of phylip, Herodias
whiche through her doughter, brought to pas
That Herode her graunted, or that they wyst
To gyue her the heed, of Iohn Baptist.
Thus where them selfe, may littell do
As in regard, of corporal myght
Of cruelnesse, they rest not so
But stere their husbandes, for to fyght
The prouerbe olde, accordeth right
women and dogges, causeth moche stryfe
And most occasion, to be mischyfe.
In case that thou, so folysshe be
For thy wyues wordes, to make a brall
Yf it so fortune, that she do it se
Regardeth lytel, what may befal
The fyrste thynge, that she doth of all
On the she ronneth, and holdeth the styll
whyles that an other, maye the kyll.
And yf it chaunce, any vnkynde worde
Escape thy mouth, wherby that ye
Bytwene your selfe, fall at dyscorde
Truste me wel, in case that she
By any meane, maye mayster the
For the moste parte, al women be
In suche case, al without pytie.
Weake and feble, albeit they be
Of body moche impotent
Example dayly, yet maye ye se
Comberous they be, and malyuolent
Harmeles creatures, none euyll ment
The vpper hande, yf they ones get
Can no more harme, then a Mermeset.
Who was so busy, as the mayde
With croked language, Peter to appose
Ones, twyse, or thryse, to hym she sayde
And thou felowe, arte one of those
The trueth sayde she, thy language shose
Peter abashed, swore and denayde
And al by reason, of the lewde made.
Some men there be also, that saye
Be she syngle, or be she wedde
To moche she couyteth, of chambre playe
As dyd byblys, the thynge for bede
Presumed to be, in her mothers stede
Myrha also inordinatlye
Wyth her owne father, founde meanes to lye.
The doughters twayne, of Loth the sage
Hauynge lyke tykle, in theyr tayle
Coulde not refrayne, theyr wylful rage
To satysfye, with euyl hayle
Theyr father feasted, with costly vitayle
Made hym dronke, and so at laste
Medled with hym, he slepynge faste.
Examples here of, diuers there be
To a proue my sayeng, as strayght as a lyne
As firste of the abhominable Pasiphe
And then the insaciat missalyne
Pyrra, Fabulla, and fayre Helyne
Wyth other thousandes, many mo
Whyche al to resyte, wolde neuer be do.
I praye you why, was Adam shent
Bycause he onely, dyd transgresse
Eue hym meued, fyrst to consent
To eate of the apple, she dyd hym dresse
So all came, of her wylfulnes
And syth that woman, that offence began
She is more to blome, then is the man.
The wyfe of Loth, wyllyng also
The wyll of god, to preuarycate
Out of the Cytye, whan she shulde go
Loke behinde her, in her gate
To se by profe, the pronostycate
Dyspleased god and she anone
Trasformed was, into a salt stone.
I praye you what dyd quene Atthaly
Loke in Paralypomenon
Mother of yonge kynge Othozye
Of all, and of all, the wylfullest one
Moued the kynge a foresayde, her sonne
To do moche euyll, especyallye
The temple of god, for to dystroye.
Myghty Sampson, two wyues had
The fyrste a Phylystian, by generacyon
Neyther of them good, but passynge bad
And else to hym, farre out of fasshion
The fyrste hym caused, by lacrymacyon
Hys probleme to here so that he sayde
When she it knewe, she hym be trayed.
The seconde delde, moche worse then so
Decyued hym, as ye shall here
For she hys strenght, dyd take hym fro
In her lappe slepynge, she clypte hys heere
Betrayed her lorde, and her bewpere
Thus dalyda, for mede hym serued
And caused hys iyes, out to be carued.
The wyfe of Iob, the man electe
Saluted hym, with scornes and mockes
And full vnsemely, oft hym checte
Sayenge thou foole, full of the pockes
Full lyke a foole, thy breste thou knockes
Wenyst thou, for thy fayre speche
God wyl come, the for to feche.
Thy praytynge leue, sowle the befall
Trust me, he wyll the neuer hele
Thy bestes, thy goodes, and thy chyldren all
Be deed and brent, nowe euery dele
And thou lyest here, with many a byle
Pratynge and prayenge, to the dyuyne
And worse thou, stynkest, then a deed swyne.
Lykewyse the wyfe, of olde Thoby
Whose name as I remembre, was Anne
Whiche hym entreated, boysterously
With sad rebukes, nowe and than
Called hym dryuell, and wytles fande
Bycause he gaue, with herte so liberall
Parte of hys goodes, to the porall.
The wanton wyfe, of kyng Pharao
Ioseph abhorred, with her to lye
In place secrete, betwene them two
God forbyd madame, sayde he
Because she sawe, it wolde not be
A shamefull lye, she dyd inuent
In pryson to caste, that innocent.
In women al thys propertye
Is knowen sure, and manifeste
That yf a man, maye come so nye
To shewe them game, that they loue beste
And wyll, not do it, then wyll they Ieste
But truste me sure, that wyth the harte
They wyll neuer loue him afterwarte.
The wyse man sayth, in hys prouerbes
A strumpettes lyppes, are dulce as honnye
But in her dealynge, she is sowre as herbes
worme wode, or rewe, or worse sayth he
For when them lyketh, to mocke with the
With tonge & iye, such semblaunce they showe
That harde it were, them to mystrowe.
As though they spake, with mouth & herte
with face they make, so good semblaunce
That harde it were, a man to starte
From theyr fayre, glosynge countenaunce
Thus with theyr sugered, vtteraunce
The symple men, that meane but iuste
Disceyued are, where they moste truste.
In case they do you, but one benefyte
An hondreth tymes, be you recompensed
They wyll you euer, with that one entwyte
Wyth lytell cause, or none offensed
All our demerytes, shall be vnrecompensed
So be it lesse, or be it more
All is loste, ye gaue them before.
If ye renounce, your copy holde
And wolde be tenaunte, by Indenture
There is no ware, then to be solde
Ye muste go seke, at your aduenture
For as of you, they haue no denture
Thynke that I, wyll be so redy
Naye by Iesse, I holde you a peny.
And then yf ye, no labour make
Ye maye be sure, that then wyll she
The sure out throwe, the hawke to take
Be lyke of her offynyte
Good god howe straunge, nowe a dayes be ye
I wolde haue thought, ye had ben none suche
But by the lyttell, is knowen the moche
So at lenght, by howche or by crouche
Lesse or more, euer they craue
Untyll thy hande, be in thy powche
No wordes preuaylen, the to saue
A thousande thousande, wayen they haue
To make a man, a threde bare cote
And leue hym neyther peny ne grote.
Nowe thys nowe that they craue alwaye
One thynge or other, they neuer rest
Say what ye wyll, they will no naye
Nor none excuse, but theyr owne request
So they may be trimmed, and fed of the best
They haue no remorse, who bereth the name
Nor whome they put to open shame.
The treueth is knowen, as in this case
By holy wryte, autentycate
Betwene Thamer, and the iudge Iudas
The boke called Genesis, examinate
Howe Thamer, the wydowe in the way sate
Dysgysed her selfe, in straunge araye
Iudas to dysceyue, after that waye.
Her fresshe atyre, & countenaunce therto
Prouoked thys man, a questyon to make
She lyghtlye consentynge, as some other do
Sayd what will ye gyue, thy plesure to take
Some pledge she sayde, for promyse is stake
Of hym she requyred, staffe, mantell, and rynge
Hys minde to folowe; and do the thynge.
Shorte tale to make, the lawe was their owen
A woman that founde was, in adultraytion
Dewe profe alledged, by credyble men
Shulde suffer death, saunce redempcion.
The matter appered, by her bely
She openly sayde, in slaunder of Iudas
who oweth these thre, thys dede done has.
Thus be they all, past shame and drede
And careth not, who byd them bayle
With gostly sentence, them to fede
Lyttell or nothynge, doth them preuayle
Be thy backe tourned, anone they rayle
And saye for al your counsayle good
Ye had leuer a bare ars, then a furred hood.
To saye that they, can counsayle kepe
It were to me, a maruaylous thynge
Oneles it be, when they do slepe
Or no body, to gyue the herynge
Desyrous euer, of newe tydinge
And were it matter, of lymme and lyfe
Out it shall, be tolde belyue.
Tully the Roman, vpon a daye
Thought to approue, hys wyfe secrye
In counsayle tolde her, he had put awaye
The Emperour sonne, to the ende that we
May raygne and rule, both lande and see
Glad was she, and yet she went
And hym dysclosed, incontinent.
Tullye eschaped, harde with the lyfe
And al by meane, of hys one folye
Had not the trewth, be knowen belyue
To haue be hanged, it was ieopardye
Be it therfore, trewe tale or lye
Be wyse and ware, wake ye or wynke
And tell not your wyfe, al that ye tynke.
Kynge Salomon both wytty and wyse
A woman doth, Assymilate
Unto a droppinge, euesynge guyse
Dystyllyng downe, after rayne late
Who droppes vnclene, doth maculate
The fynest vesture, that any man weres
wyth colde and wete, the body deres.
Euen so a woman, lytygyous
Dysquyeteth, a hole house holde
And who so he be, that in his house
Entendeth to kepe, a woman skolde
The wynde that bloweth, both moyst & colde
Where better farre, for to herboure
And lesse shulde fynde, of displeasure.
Enuyous they be, it is dayly sene
And prode also, of comparyson
Recorde of Saba, the gorgyous quene
Before, nor synce, was neuer suche a one
Because she enuyed kyng Salomon
To proue hys wysdome, & take with a tryppe
Passed the sees, in a marualous shyppe.
Bycause that Naboth, wolde not sell
Unto the kynge of Samarye
The vyneyarde he had, at Israel
Achab the kynge, became angrye
As soone as Iesabell, the quene knewe why
She strayly comauded, by wrytyng to fayne
Some cryme vpo Naboth, & so was he slaine.
Loke and rede, the boke Bockas
And ye shall fynde, many a reason
The pryde of women, to defare
For theyr mislyuyng, in theyr season
Good women he wrote, were very geson
As ye shal fynde, of nyntyne he wrote
But of the twentye, neyther litter nor iotte.
Salomon sayth, thre thynges there be
Seldom, or neuer saturate.
Hell the fyrste is of the thre
The seconde a womans water gate
The grounde of water, insacyate
Of euery lewde fasshyon, reken who can
And euer I warrante, the woman is one.
Harde to be knowen, lyke mebre therbi
The fourth to knowe, who is he con
The fyrste whych waye, a byrde wyll fle
Or of a serpent, sprent from a stone
What hauen a shyppe, shal be dryue vpon
The craft of a hore, perceyue who con
And euer I wyrrant, the woman is one.
The grounde also, doth vary by thre
The fourth may not, be stablyshed sure
A bonde man set, in maiestye
A foole fed fatte, whyles he will in powre
An odyous woman, in weddynges vre
An heyre made, of a bonde woman
So euer I warrant, the woman is one.
Whych thyngs remebred, well nere eche man
Reporte of them, accordinglye
And saye playnelye, that in the woman
Is lyttell thynge, of prayse worthye
Lettred or vnlerned, whyther they be
They say of all creatures, women are the best.
Cuius contrarium, verum est.
And were not two small veneales
The femynyne, myght be gloryfyde
Set in thronys, perpetualles
And as the gooddes, he deyfyde
Two venyall synnes, they haue and hyde
None of the seuen, theyr names who can tell
The can neyther do, nor saye well.
So to conclude, of hys treatyse
A fynall ende, rude thought it be
The processe throughe, who wyll superuise
Shall well perceyue, I make no lye
And ende therfore, to make shortlye
In my conceyte, he lyueth in rest
That medleth wyth them, of all people lest.
Go forth lytell booke, be not a frayde
To be accept, wyth them that are wyse
And shewe them playne, what so be sayde
In any parte, of thys treatyse
Doth not dysdayne, theyr honestyse
But for the lewde, might haue a myrrour,
Here by to amende, theyr damnable errour.
Lyke as the preacher, doth dyscomende
All vyces lyuynge, with mouth and wyll
Or as the mynstrell, doth entende
wyth helpe of Lute, fynger or quyll
Examply shewynge, to conuerte the yll
Lyke so myne auctour, doth the same
No creature lyuynge, spoken by name.
Percase any one, dyspleasure take
Bycause it toucheth her, properlye
In case that she, suche wayes forsake
whych moste accordeth, to her propertye
She nedeth not herewyth to be angry
God graunt vs all, we may do thys
Euery man to amende one, in that is amys.
The good alwayes, wyl be content
with that, that is spoken, in generall
There wil none so soone, be dyscontent
As they that fretesed, be with all
Rub a scalde horse, vpon the gall
And he wyll byte, wynse and went
So wyll al people that are maleuolent.
Go forth therfore, amonge the thycke
And bere in mynde, who is with the
The wordes that Salomon, and Dauid spake
In Iudicum, and in Genesye
Hyerome, Iuuenall, and olde Tobye
Caton, and Ouid, wyll testyfye
And mercyall also, who listeth to trye.
And vnto them, that lerned be
I wolde and wyll, thou mekely went
And shewe them, who so made the
No thynge purposed, of yll intent
That shulde prohybe the sacrament
But that the masculyne, might hereby
Haue somme what to reste, with the femyny.
FINIS. Here endeth the Scole house of women.
Comments about Here Begynneth The Scole House Of Women by Edward Gosynhyll
Poems About Women
- 1. Here Begynneth The Scole House Of Women , Edward Gosynhyll
- 2. Wrestling Of Wills , nadia abduljabbar
- 3. Woman , Noluyolo Mapuma
- 4. Women In Islam , readnow 1978
- 5. The Decline Of Man (And The Rise Of Women) , David Whalen
- 6. A Yokel’s Journey , mohib asad
- 7. If I Were A Woman , Niki Nicholas Nkuna
- 8. Women And Food , david bailey
- 9. Women Time , Buxton Shippy
- 10. To A Daughter , Ruth Walters
- 11. A Poem Written For ''The Jailhouse Gate.. , Metin Sahin
- 12. Indian Women Cry 'Great St. Essa' , Patricia Etienne
- 13. When I Think Of A Women , Tsholofelo Phakathi
- 14. Woman Of Colour , morris rebecca
- 15. Yakima Women? , Larry Porter
- 16. Our Cruelty , VUSI CHRIS VENUS MALALA
- 17. Understanding Bukowski Now , Barry A. Lanier
- 18. Bittersweet , Charlina Daitouah Smith
- 19. The Nation's Ink , Milton Styner
- 20. The Nation's Ink (2014) , MILTON STYNER JR
- 21. Promiscous Man , Dirk Yearwood
- 22. The Chomillah Palace In Hyderabad , Jagannath rao Adukuri
- 23. Women Rules , leo seventh
- 24. All Are Taken, All Are Gone , KHAYA CLARENCE
- 25. Undeniable , brian musonda
- 26. ****the Massacre And Looting Of The Musl.. , SAKISABRE Saki
- 27. Different Planets , Lynne Howard
- 28. Swami Ratyaananda (Fiction) , Varanasi Ramabrahmam
- 29. We Cry Rape! ! , Ayaz Kazi
- 30. Woman , Hibo Abdirahman
- 31. Chest , Jack Lad
- 32. Back Alley Angels , Hannah Whittington
- 33. Simply Complex. , Marcondes Pereira
- 34. Mans' Deceitful Heart , BronzeGoddess TALJA
- 35. Song Against Women , Willard Huntington Wright
- 36. Myth Of The Eternal Return , Jerome Brooke
- 37. Biggest Fan , Lamar Ingraham, Sr.
- 38. Brilliant Deduction , Jeff Hughes
- 39. What A Woman Wants , Emile Segue
- 40. The Lost One , Beautifully Chaotic
- 41. An Unraveling Of The Secret Of Feminine .. , Bob Hunter
- 42. Opinion , Innocent Masina Nkhonyo
- 43. Neath The Shandy And The Light , Fergus Michael Condron
- 44. Mama; S Sacriffice , luvuyo gqamane
- 45. I'M Sorry To All These Women , Kieran J1996
- 46. When Women Hurt , Shirley Morgan
- 47. Introspect Today- Not Just Pray , Dr Jawahar Surisetti
- 48. Woman I Love Thee , Shueyb Boyer
- 49. Women Are Just As Good , Kimberley Gonzalez
- 50. Disappearing Generation , Larisa Rzhepishevska
New Women Poems
- True Beauty In Gods Eyes!, Shaila Touchton
- Women In Iran, Women In Syria, Women In .., Bijay Kant Dubey
- A Women Like You., Thandolwethu Ntshintshi
- Men And Women, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Women, TIJANI ADEBOWALE DESTINY
- Some Men And Women, Lonnie Hicks
- I Cry Still I Rise, Mihir Modi
- Essays On Literature, alexander opicho
- Women Of Overflowing Virtue, Ajala Samuel Akindele
- Men And Women, qin xing
- carpe diem