God spede you, maysters, everychone,
Wote ye not whyther my wyfe is gone?
I pray God the dyvell take her,
For all that I do I can not make her,
But she wyll go a gaddynge very myche 5
Lyke an Antony pyg[229] with an olde wyche,
Whiche ledeth her about hyther and thyther;
But, by our lady, I wote not whyther.
But, by goggis[230] blod, were she come home
Unto this my house, by our lady of Crome,[231] 10