Her name was Alyson, she loved nought elles
But ever more to rynge her blacke belles.
Now are they deade all, so mote I well thryve,
Excepte my selfe Godfray Gobelive,
Whiche rode about a wyfe me to seke,
But I can finde none that is good and meke;
For all are shrewes in the world aboute,
I coude never mete with none other route;
For some develles wyll their husbandes bete,
And tho that can not, they wyll never let