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Allemyghty God, maker of all, Save you my sovereyns in towre and hall, And send you good grace! If ye wylle a stounde blynne, Of a story I wylle begynne, And telle you alle the cas, Meny farleyes that I have herde Ye would have wondyr how yt ferde; Lystyn, and ye schalle here; Of a wryght I wylle you telle That some tyme in thys land gan dwelle, And lyved by hys myster. Whether that he were yn or oute, Or erthely man hadde he no dowte, To werke hows, harowe, nor plowgh, Or other werkes, what so they were Thous wrought he hem farre and nere, And dyd tham wele inough. Thys wryght would wedde no wyfe, Butt yn yougeth to lede hys lyfe In myrthe and othre melody; Over alle where he gan wende, Alle they seyd, "Welcome, frende, Sytt downe, and do gladly." Tylle on a tyme he was wyllyng, As tyme comyth of alle thyng, So seyth the profesye, A wyfe for to wedde and have That myght hys goodes kepe and save, And for to leve alle foly. Ther dwellyd a wydowe in that contré That hadde a doughter feyre and fre; Of her, word sprang wyde, For sche was bothe stabylle and trewe, Meke of maners, and feyre of hewe - So seyd men in that tyde. The wryght seyde, "So God me save, Such a wyfe would I have To lye nyghtly by my syde." He thought to speke wyth that may, And rose erly on a daye And thyder gan he to ryde. The wryght was welcome to the wyfe, And her saluyd alle so blyve, And so he dyd her doughter fre: For the erand that he for came Tho he spake, that good yemane, Than to hym seyd sche. The wydow seyd, "By heven kyng, I may geve wyth her nothing. And that forthynketh me, Save a garlond I wylle thee geve, Ye schalle never see, whyle ye lyve, None such in thys contré. Have here thys garlond of roses ryche, In alle thy lond ys non yt lyche, For ytt wylle ever be newe; Wete thou wele withowtyn fable, Alle the whyle thy wyfe ys stable The chaplett wolle hold hewe; And yf thy wyfe use putry, Or tolle eny man to lye her by, Than wolle yt change hewe, And by the garlond thou may see, Fekylle or fals yf that sche be, Or ellys yf sche be trewe." Of thys chaplett hym was fulle fayne, And of hys wyfe, was nott to layne, He weddyd her fulle sone, And ladde her home wyth solempnité, And hyld her brydalle dayes thre. Whan they home come, Thys wryght in hys hart cast, If that he walkyd est or west As he was wonte to done, "My wyfe that ys so bryght of ble Men wolle desyre here fro me, And that hastly and sone"; Butt sone he hym bythought That a chambyr schuld be wrought Bothe of lyme and stone, Wyth wallys strong as eny stele, And dorres sotylly made and wele, He owte framyd yt sone; The chambyr he lett make fast, Wyth plaster of Parys that wylle last, Such ous know I never none. Ther ys kyng ne emperoure, And he were lockyn in that towre, That cowde gete owte of that wonne. Nowe hathe he done as he thought, And in the myddes of the flore wrought A wondyr strange gyle, A trapdoure rounde abowte That no man myght come yn nor owte; It was made wyth a wyle, That whoso touchyd yt eny thyng, Into the pytt he schuld flyng Wythyn a lytylle whyle. For hys wyfe he made that place, That no man schuld beseke her of grace, Nor her to begyle. By that tyme the lord of the towne Hadde ordeynyd tymbyr redy bowne An halle to make of tre. After the wryght the lord lett sende For that he schuld wyth hym lende Monythys two or thre. The lord seyd, "Woult thou have thi wyfe?    I wylle send after her blyve That sche may com to thee." The wryght hys garlond hadde take wyth hym, That was bryght and nothing dymme, Yt wes feyre on to see. The lord axyd hym as he satt, "Felowe, where hadyst thou this hatte That ys so feyre and newe?" The wryght answerd alle so blyve, And seyd, "Syr, I hadde yt wyth my wyfe, And that dare me nevere rewe; Syr, by my garlond I may see Fekylle or fals yf that sche be, Or yf that sche be trewe; And yf my wyfe love a paramoure, Than wylle my garlond vade coloure, And change wylle yt the hewe." The lord thought, "By Godys myght, That wylle I wete thys same nyght Whether thys tale be trewe." To the wryghtys howse anon he went, He fonde the wyfe therin presente, That was so bryght and schene; Sone he hayled her trewly, And so dyd sche the lord curtesly: Sche seyd, "Welcome ye be"; Thus seyd the wyfe of the hows, "Syr, howe faryth my swete spowse That hewyth uppon youre tre?" "Sertes, dame," he seyd, "wele, And I am come, so have I hele, To wete the wylle of thee; My love ys so uppon thee cast That me thynketh my hert wolle brest, It wolle none otherwyse be; Good dame, graunt me thy grace To pley with thee in some prevy place For gold and eke for fee." "Good syr, lett be youre fare, And of such wordes speke no mare For Hys love that dyed on Tre; Hadde we onys begonne that gle, My husbond by his garlond myght see; For sorowe he would wexe woode." "Certes, dame," he seyd, "naye; Love me, I pray you, in that ye maye: For Godys love change thy mode, Forty marke schalle be youre mede Of sylver and of gold so rede, And that schalle do thee good." "Syr, that deed schalle be done; Take me that mony here anone." "I swere by the holy Rode I thought when I cam hyddere For to bryng yt alle togyddere, As I mott breke my heele." Ther sche toke forty marke Of sylver and gold styff and sterke: Sche toke yt feyre and welle; Sche seyd, "Into the chambyr wylle we, Ther no man schalle us see; No lenger wylle we spare." Up the steyer they gan hye: The stepes were made so queyntly That farther myght he nott fare. The lord stumbyllyd as he went in hast, He felle donne into that chaste Forty fote and somedele more. The lord began to crye; The wyfe seyd to hym in hye, "Syr, what do ye there?" "Dame, I can nott seye howe That I am come hydder nowe To thys hows that ys so newe; I am so depe in thys sure flore That I ne can come owte att no dore; Good dame, on me thou rewe!" "Nay," sche seyd, "so mut y the, Tylle myne husbond come and se, I schrewe hym that yt thought." The lord arose and lokyd abowte If he myght eny where get owte, But yt holpe hym ryght noght, The wallys were so thycke wythyn, That he nowhere myght owte wynne But helpe to hym were brought; And ever the lord made evylle chere, And seyd, "Dame, thou schalt by thys dere." Sche seyd tat sche ne rought; Sche seyd, "I recke nere Whyle I am here and thou art there, I schrewe herre that thee doth drede." The lord was sone owte of her thought, The wyfe went into her lofte, Sche satte and dyd here dede. Than yt fell on that other daye Of mete and drynke he gan her pray, Thereof he hadde gret nede. He seyd, "Dame, for seynt charyté, Wyth some mete thou comfort me." Sche seyd, "Nay, so God me spede, For I swere by swete seynt Johne, Mete ne drynke ne getyst thou none Butt thou wylt swete or swynke; For I have both hempe and lyne, And a betyngstocke fulle fyne, And a swyngylle good and grete; If thou wylt worke, tell me sone." "Dame, bryng yt forthe, yt schalle be done, Fulle gladly would I ete." Sche toke the stocke in her honde, And into the pytt sche yt schlang Wyth a grete hete: Sche brought the lyne and hempe on her backe, "Syr lord," sche seyd, "have thou that, And lerne for to swete." Ther sche toke hym a bonde For to occupy hys honde, And bade hym fast on to bete. He leyd yt downe on the stone, And leyd on strockes welle good wone, And sparyd nott on to leyne. Whan that he hadde wrought a thrave, Mete and drynke he gan to crave, And would have hadde yt fayne; "That I hadde somewhat for to ete Now after my gret swete; Me thynketh yt were ryght, For I have labouryd nyght and daye Thee for to plese, dame I saye, And therto putt my myght." The wyfe seyd, "So mutt I have hele, And yf thi worke be wrought wele Thou schalt have to dyne." Mete and drynke sche hym bare, Wyth a thrafe of flex mare Of fulle long boundyn lyne. So feyre the wyfe the lord gan praye That he schuld be werkyng aye, And nought that he schuld blynne; The lord was fayne to werke tho, Butt hys men knewe nott of hys woo Nor of ther lordes pyne. The stuard to the wryght gan saye, "Sawe thou owte of my lord todaye, Whether that he ys wende?" The wryght answerde and seyd, "Naye, I sawe hym nott syth yesterdaye; I trowe that he be schente." The stuard stode the wryght by, And of hys garlond hadde ferly What that yt bemente. The stuard seyd, "So God me save, Of thy garlond wondyr I have, And who yt hath thee sent." "Syr," he seyd, "be the same hatte I can knowe yf my wyfe be badde To me by eny other man; If my floures outher fade or falle, Then doth my wyfe me wrong wythalle, As many a woman can." The stuard thought, "By Godes myght, That schalle I preve thys same nyght Whether thou blys or banne." And into hys chambyr he gan gone, And toke tresure fulle good wone, And forth he spedde hem than. Butt he ne stynt att no stone Tylle he unto the wryghtes hows come That ylke same nyght. He mett the wyfe amydde the gate, Abowte the necke he gan her take, And seyd, "My dere wyght, Alle the good that ys myne I wylle thee geve to be thyne To lye by thee alle nyght." Sche seyd, "Syr, lett be thy fare My husbond wolle wete wythowtyn mare And I hym dyd that unryght; I would nott he myght yt wete For alle the good that I myght gete, So Jhesus mutt me spede; For, and eny man lay me by, My husbond would yt wete truly, It ys wythowtyn eny drede." The stuard seyd, "For hym that ys wrought, Thereof, dame, dred thee noght Wyth me to do that dede; Have here of me twenty marke Of gold and sylver styf and starke, Thys tresoure schalle be thy mede." "Syr, and I graunt that to you, Lett no man wete butt we two nowe." He seyd, "Nay, wythowtyn drede." The stuard thought, "Sykerly Women beth both queynte and slye." The mony he gan her bede; He thought wele to have be spedde, And of her erand he was onredde Or he were fro hem i-gone. Up the sterys sche hym leyde Tylle he saw the wryghtes bedde: Of tresoure thought he none; He went and stumblyd att a stone, Into the sellere he fylle sone Downe to the bare flore. The lord seyd, "What devylle art thou? And thou hadest falle on me nowe, Thowe hadest hurt me fulle sore." The stuard stert and staryd abowte If he myght ower gete owte Att hold lesse or mare. The lord seyd, "Welcome, and sytt betyme, For thou schalt helpe to dyght thys lyne For alle thy fers fare." The stuard lokyd on the knyght, He seyd, "Syr, for Godes myght, My lord, what do you here?" He seyd, "Felowe, wythowtyn oth, For o erand we come bothe, The sothe wolle I nott lete." Tho cam the wyfe them unto, And seyd, "Syrres, what do you to, Wylle ye nott lerne to swete?" Than seyd the lord her unto, "Dame, youre lyne ys i-doo, Nowe would I fayne ete: And I have made yt alle ilyke, Fulle clere, and nothing thycke, Me thynketh yt gret payne." The stuard seyd, "Wythowtyn dowte, And ever I may wynne owte, I wyll breke her brayne." "Felowe, lett be, and sey nott so, For thou schalt worke or ever thou goo, Thy wordes thou torne agayne, Fayne thou schalt be so to doo, And thy good wylle put therto; As a man buxome and bayne Thowe schalt rubbe, rele, and spynne, And thou wolt eny mete wynne, That I geve to God a gyfte." The stuard seyd, "Then have I wondyr; Rather would I dy for hungyr Wythowte hosylle or shryfte." The lord seyd, "So have I hele, Thowe wylt worke, yf thou hungyr well, What worke that thee be brought." The lord satt and dyd hys werke, The stuard drewe into the derke. Gret sorowe was in hys thought. The lord seyd, "Dame, here ys youre lyne, Have yt in Godes blessyng and myne, I hold yt well i-wrought." Mete and drynke sche gave hymn yn, "The stuard," sche seyd, "wolle he nott spynne, Wylle he do ryght noght?" The lord seyd, "By swete sen Jone, Of thy mete schalle he have none That ye have me hydder brought." The lord ete and dranke fast, The stuard hungeryd att the last, For he gave hym nought. The stuard satt alle in a stody, Hys lord hadde forgote curtesy: Tho seyd the stuard, "Geve me some." The lord seyd, "Sorow have the morselle or sope That schalle come in thy throte; Nott so much as a crome! Butt thou wylt helpe to dyght this lyne, Much hungyr yt schalle be thyne Though thou make much mone." Up he rose, and went therto, "Better ys me thus to doo Whyle yt must nedys be do." The stuard began fast to knocke, The wyfe threw hym a syngelyng stocke, Hys mete therwyth to wyn; Sche brought a swyngylle at the last, "Good syres," sche seyd, "swyngylle on fast; For nothing that ye blynne." Sche gave hym a stocke to sytt uppon, And seyd, "Syres, this werke must nedys be done, Alle that that ys here yn." The stuard toke up a stycke to saye, "Sey, seye, swyngylle better yf ye may, Hytt wylle be the better to spynne." Were the lord never so gret, Yet was he fayne to werke for hys mete Though he were never so sadde; Butt the stuard that was so stowde, Was fayne to swyngelle the scales owte, Therof he was nott glad. The lordys meyné that were att home Wyst nott where he was bycome, They were fulle sore adrad. The proctoure of the parysche chyrche ryght Came and lokyd on the wryght, He lokyd as he were madde; Fast the proctoure gan hym frayne, "Where hadest thou this garlond gayne? It ys ever lyke newe." The wryght gan say, "Felowe, Wyth my wyfe, yf thou wylt knowe; That dare me nott rewe; For alle the whyle my wyfe trew ys, My garlond wolle hold hewe iwys, And never falle nor fade; And yf my wyfe take a paramoure, Than wolle my garlond vade the floure, That dare I ley myne hede." The proctoure thought, "In good faye That schalle I wete thy same daye Whether yt may so be." To the wryghtes hows he went; He grete the wyfe wyth feyre entente. Sche seyd, "Syr, welcome be ye." "A! dame, my love ys on you fast Syth the tyme I sawe you last; I pray you yt may so be That ye would graunt me of youre grace To play wyth you in some privy place, Or ellys to deth mutt me." Fast the proctoure gan to pray, And ever to hym sche seyd, "Naye, That wolle I nott doo. Hadest thou done that ded wyth me, My spouse by hys garlond myght see: That schuld torne me to woo." The proctoure seyd, "By heven kyng, If he sey to thee anything He schalle have sorowe unsowte; Twenty marke I wolle thee geve, It wolle thee helpe welle to lyve, The mony here have I brought." Nowe hath sche the tresure tane, And up the steyre be they gane, (What helpyth yt to lye?) The wyfe went the steyre besyde, The proctoure went a lytylle to wyde He felle downe by and by. Whan he in the seller felle, He wente to have sonke into hell, He was in hart fulle sory. The stuard lokyd on the knyght, And seyd, "Proctoure, for Godes myght, Come and sytt us by." The proctoure began to stare, For he was he wyst never whare, Butt wele he knewe the knyght And the stuard that swyngelyd the lyne. He seyd, "Syres, for Godes pyne, What do ye here thys nyght?" The stuard seyd, "God geve thee care, Thowe camyst to loke howe we fare, Nowe helpe this lyne were dyght." He stode stylle in a gret thought, What to answer he wyst noght: "By Mary fulle of myght," The proctoure seyd, "What do ye in this yn For to bete thys wyfees lyne? For Jhesus love, fulle of myght," The proctoure seyd ryght as he thought, "For me yt schalle by evylle wrought And I may see aryght, For I lernyd never in londe For to have a swyngelle in hond By day nor by nyght." The stuard seyd, "As good as thou We hold us that be here nowe, And lett preve yt be syght; Yet must us worke for owre mete, Or ellys schalle we none gete, Mete nor drynke to owre honde." The lord seyd, "Why flyte ye two? I trowe ye wylle werke or ye goo If yt be as I undeyrstond." Abowte he goys twyes or thryes; They ete and drunke in such wyse That they geve hym ryght noght. The proctoure seyd, "Thynke ye no schame, Geve me some mete, ye be to blame, Of that the wyfe ye brought." The stuard seyd, "Evylle spede the soppe If eny morcelle come in thy throte Butt thou wyth us hadest wrought." The proctoure stode in a stody Whether he myght worke hem by; And so to torne hys thought, To the lord he drewe nere, And to hym seyd wyth myld chere, "That Mary mott thee spede." The proctour began to knocke. The good wyfe rawte hym a rocke, For therto hadde sche nede. Sche seyd, "Whan I was mayde att home, Other werke dowde I do none My lyf therwyth to lede." Sche gave hym in hande a rocke hynde, And bade hem fast for to wynde Or ellys to lett be hys dede. "Yes, dame," he seyd, "so have I hele, I schalle yt worke both feyre and welle As ye have taute me." He wavyd up a strycke of lyne, And he span wele and fyne Byfore the swyngelle tre. The lord seyd, "Thou spynnest to grete, Therfore thou schalt have no mete, That thou schalt well see." Thus they satt and wrought fast Tylle the weke dayes were past. Then the wryght, home came he, And as he cam by hus hows syde He herd noyse that was not ryde Of persons two or thre; One of hem knockyd lyne, Anothyr swyngelyd good and fyne1 Byfore the swyngylle tre, The thyrde did rele and spynne, Mete and drynke therwyth to wynne, Gret nede therof hadde he. Thus the wryght stode herkenyng; Hys wyfe was ware of hys comyng, And ageynst hym went sche. "Dame," he seyd, "what ys this dynne? I here gret noyse here wythynne; Telle me, so God thee spede." "Syr," sche seyd, "workemen thre Be come to helpe you and me, Therof we have gret nede; Fayne would I wete what they were." But when he sawe hys lord there, Hys hert bygan to drede To see hys lord in that place, He thought yt was a strange cas, And seyd, "So God hym spede, What do ye here, my lord and knyght? Telle me nowe for Godes myght Howe cam thys unto?" The knyght seyd, "What ys best rede? Mercy I aske for my mysdede, My hert ys wondyr wo." "So ys myne, verament, To se you among thys flex and hempe, Fulle sore yt ruyth me, To se you in such hevynes; Fulle sore myne hert yt doth oppresse, By God in Trinité." The wryght bade hys wyfe lett hym owte, "Nay, then sorowe come on my snowte If they passe hens todaye Tylle that my lady come and see Howe they would have done wyth me, Butt nowe late me saye." Anon sche sent after the lady bryght For to fett home her lord and knyght, Therto sche seyd noght; Sche told her what they hadde ment, And of ther purpos and ther intente That they would have wrought. Glad was that lady of that tydyng; When sche wyst her lord was lyvyng, Therof sche was fulle fayne: Whan sche came unto the steyre aboven, Sche lokyd unto the seller downe, And seyd, (this ys nott to leyne), "Good syres, what doo you here?" "Dame, we by owre mete fulle dere, Wyth gret travayle and peyne; I pray you help that we were owte, And I wylle swere wythowtyn dowte Never to come here agayne." The lady spake the wyfe untylle, And seyd, "Dame, yf yt be youre wylle, What doo thes meyny here?" The carpentarys wyfe her answerd sykerly, "Alle they would have leyne me by, Everych in ther manere, Gold and sylver they me brought, And forsoke yt, and would yt noght, The ryche gyftes so clere. Wyllyng they were to do me schame, I toke ther gyftes wythowtyn blame, And ther they be alle thre." The lady answerd her anon, "I have thynges to do att home Mo than two or thre; I wyst my lord never do ryght noght Of nothing that schuld be wrought, Such as fallyth to me." The lady lawghed and made good game Whan they came owte alle in-same From the swyngylle tre. The knyght seyd, "Felowys in fere, I am glad that we be here, By Godes dere pyté; Dame, and ye hadde bene wyth us, Ye would have wrought, by swete Jhesus, As welle as dyd we." And when they cam up aboven They turnyd abowte and lokyd downe, The lord seyd, "So God save me, Yet hadde I never such a fytte As I have hadde in that lowe pytte; So Mary so mutt me spede." The knyght and thys lady bryght, Howe they would home that nyght, For nothyng they would abyde; And so they went home; Thys seyd Adam of Cobsam By the weye as they rode Throwe a wode in ther playeng, For to here the fowlys syng They hovyd stylle and bode. The stuard sware by Godes ore, And so dyd the proctoure much more, That never in ther lyfe Would they no more come in that wonne Whan they were onys thens come, Thys forty yere and fyve. Of the tresure that they brought The lady would geve hem ryght noght, Butt gave yt to the wryghtes wyfe. Thus the wryghtes garlond was feyre of hewe, And hys wyfe bothe good and trewe: Thereof was he fulle blythe; I take wytnes att gret and smalle, Thus trewe bene good women alle That nowe bene on lyve, So come thryste on ther hedys Whan they mombylle on ther bedys Ther Pater Noster ryve. Here ys wretyn a geste of the wryght That hadde a garlond well i-dyght, The coloure wylle never fade. Now God that ys hevyn kyng Graunt us alle hys dere blessyng Owre hertes for to glade; And alle tho that doo her husbondys ryght, Pray we to Jhesu fulle of myght, That feyre mott hem byfalle, And that they may come to heven blys, For they dere moderys love therof nott to mys, Alle good wyves alle. Now alle tho that thy tretys hath hard, Jhesu graunt hem for her reward As trew lovers to be As was the wryght unto hys wyfe And sche to hym duryng her lyfe. Amen, for charyté. Here endyth the wryghtes processe trewe Wyth hys garlond feyre of hewe That never dyd fade the coloure. It was made by the avyse Of hys wywes moder wytty and wyse Of flourys most of honoure, Of roses whyte that wylle nott fade, Whych flour all Ynglond doth glad Wyth trewloves medelyd in syght; Unto the whych flour iwys The love of God and of the comenys Subdued bene of ryght. Explicit

(see note) [for] a while stop [talking] predicaments marvelous tales turned out Listen; hear carpenter; (see note) dwelt near; master he (the wright) fear pickaxes (hoes), harrow; plow; (see note) no matter what them far enough Except; youth; (see note) Everywhere; went (see note) prophecy Who; lovely; noble constant complexion maiden (see note) greeted; gladly yeoman When have nothing to give I regret Except; give; (see note) (see note) like it without lie faithful wreath; [its] color adultery; (see note) beguiles; go to bed with her color Fickle joyful to tell the truth; (see note) led bridal; (see note) wondered do complexion yearn [to take] her [away] from me hastily; soon made walls doors skillfully (see note) as [Neither]; nor chamber middle; floor device trap door clever trick pit beguile timber to be readied wood carpenter; should; (see note) stay Months have your wife [be with you]; (see note) quickly asked did you get gladly acquired it rue fade learn house soon beautiful hailed cuts so [ardently] burst your permission play [sexual games]; secret place rich gifts (movable property) stop; plan of action; (see note) more (Christ's); Cross once; fooling around grow angry mind payment; (see note) red; (see note) you Give; money; at once Cross here forty marks will we [go] hold back stair; climb cleverly down; chest (compartment) feet; somewhat sturdy floor have pity as I might thrive curse walls; within go Unless for this [pay] dearly did not care curse her who fears you her work second day food holy charity; (see note) food St. John sweat and labor flax beating block board threw passion (gusto) flax take that sweat quickly begin beat measure gladly good fortune measure; flax more; (see note) flax ever cease suffering their lord's suffering steward Saw you since believe; may be in trouble (injured) marveled might mean headpiece unfaithful (bad) flowers either prove bless or curse a great quantity stop house very in the middle of lady give stop; behavior know If; injustice know Despite might; deliver if any doubt fear you not marks reward if I know never fear Certainly cunning reluctant stairs nothing cellar looked around anywhere prepare; flax fierce behavior; (see note) lie conceal Then two i.e., work flax; done the same (see note) If break; brain (head) shut up before willing obedient; compliant wind; spin If; food confession; absolution flax St. John nothing stupor; (see note) Then sop crumb Unless; prepare; flax complaint beating board food nothing; cease bench eager Unless company i.e., knew what had become of him worried pastor crazy to ask did you get cause sadness diminish fade faith learn house greeted must [I go] deed turn taken gone too cellar thought; sunk he was he did not know where pounded; flax suffering are you doing prepare [The pastor] knew dwelling; (see note) beat; flax know ourselves who our food debate trust; before nothing Until; worked quandary gave; distaff; (see note) a young woman did well-made (nearby?) distaff; (see note) death health directed handful of linen fibers (see note) too fast food worked his usual bundled the heckled flax (see note) flail; (see note) listening aware towards din Joyfully fear explanation misdeed very sorrowful truly grieves Then countenance; (see note) hence Until; (the lord's wife) fetch She (the wright's wife) message learned; living happy (I am not lying) buy fail group assuredly bedded Each one; own way [I] rejected; not [take] precious (glittering) (see note) (see note) together together dear pity if you worked an experience (see note) forest hear; birds; (see note) halted; waited place once had been (see note) return nothing happy witness live now [may] spiritual desire (thirst) come upon mumble Their Our Father many times (rife) adventure to gladden those; justice good things must them mother's treatise; heard them; their orderly story (pageant) By; wife's mother trueloves (flower of chastity) mingled commons

The Wright's Chaste Wife, Select Bibliography

Manuscript

Lambeth Palace Library MS 306, fols. 178a-187a (1460s).


Edition

Adam of Cobsam. The Wright's Chaste Wife. Ed. Frederick J. Furnivall. EETS o.s. 12. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1865; rpt 1891, 1905, 1965.


Related Studies

DuVal, John. "The Wright's Chaste Wife: A Satiric Fabliau." Publication of the Missouri Philological Association 2 (1977), 8-14.

Goodall, Peter. "An Outline History of the English Fabliau after Chaucer." AUMLA: Journal of the Australasian Universities Language and Literature Association 57 (May 1982), 5-23.

Hanawalt, Barbara A. "Separation Anxieties in Late Medieval London: Gender in The Wright's Chaste Wife." Medieval Perspectives 11 (1996), 23-41.

---. 'Of Good and Ill Repute': Gender and Social Control in Medieval England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Pp. 88-103.

Llewellyn, R. H. "The Wright's Chaste Wife Disinterred." Southern Folklore Quarterly 16 (1952), 251-54.