Ant whissheth us evele ant worse to fare;
A pruest proud ase a po,
Seththe weddeth us bo,
Wyde heo worcheth us wo,
For wymmene ware.
Translation.—No unlearned (lay) person may live in the land,—be he in assembly never so ... of hand,—the learned (the clergy) so lead us about;—if I chance to go on the earth with a maid,—I shall fall before them and learn their lay,—and rue all their counsels.—But unless I be on the foremost day in the land before them,—I shall not escape so clear of their score,—they cry on me so grimly,—that I may not lead myself there with my law,—on all kinds of oaths that they will give me,—their books as....—They turn over books that are not broad,—and make men a month mad;—from hurt I will save myself,—and fly from my companion;—she recked not what it were,—but she had it.
First, there sit an old churl in a black gown,—of all who sit there he seems to be most the lord,—and lays his leg along.—A hem in a cloak with hanging sleeves,—and more than forty before him to write my bales,—in sins if I sung:—they pink with their pens on their parchment,—and say I am briefed and brought in—of all my fair wealth.—They are all ready to read my sorrow—there I must out of respect give some bribe,—and gratefully thank them.—Shall I thank them there before I go?—Yea, the master and his men both.—If I am accused in their writing,—then am I back-bitten,—for many men they make to know—woe from women.
Yet there sit somnours six or seven,—misjudging men all alike,—and reach forth their roll;—herdsmen hate them, and each man’s servant,—for every parish they put in pain,—and clatter with their collar (?).—Now will each foolish clerk that is ..., go to the bishop and buy bailywick;—there is no sense in his head.—He comes creeping to the county court in a cope,—and saying he hath proud privilege of the pope,—black and all swollen.—Are they swollen for swearing (?)?—yea, the hatred of hell be theirs!—for there they offer a book,—to say as I baptism took;—they shall in hell on a hook—hang for it.
There stands up a yellow-man, and jogs with a rod,—and shouts out aloud that all the assembly heard,—and calls Mag and Mal;—and she comes be-mothered as a moor-hen,—and shrinks for shame, and is ashamed on account of the men,—un-comely under petticoat.—She begins to screech, and screams anon,—and says, “by my gabbing, it shall not go so,—and that be on you all;—that thou shalt wed me and have me to wife.”—But I would rather with law lose my life,—than so fall at their feet.—Shall I fall at the feet of my foes?—Yea, many she deceiveth so.—I am there threatened by thralls,—who sit black and covered with sweat,—there I must take me a command,—before I go home.
Such merchandise I buy at the chapter,—that makes many thrifty men to be unthankful,—with very thin thanks:—and since I go creeping to the consistory,—and fall at the foot of each ...,—theirs is the world’s joy,—since I played at the bishop’s pleading.—But I had rather be drowned in the sea,—in sorrow without sin.—At church and through the market like a dog I am driven,—that I would rather be dead than so to live,—to have care for all my kindred.—At the consistory they teach us care,—and wish us evil and worse to fare;—a priest as proud as a peacock—afterwards weds us both,—widely they work us woe,—for women’s ware.