Go before, between, and tween,
Wisely that ye be not seen;
For I must home and come again. 
To wit I wis where my husband is.

A strype or two God might send me,
If my husband might here see me. 
She is afeared, let her flee,
Quoth Alice then,—­I dread no men.

Now be we in the tavern set,
A draught of the best let him fet,
To bring our husbands out of debt;
For we will spend—­till God more send.

Each of them brought forth their dish,
Some brought flesh and some brought fish,
Quoth Margaret meke—­now with a wish,
I would Anne were here; she would make us
cheer.

How say ye, gossips, is the wine good ? 
That is it, quoth Eleanour, by the rood. 
It cheereth the heart and comforts the blood. 
Such jonkets among shall make us live long.

Anne bade fill a pot of muscadell;
For of all wines I love it well. 
Sweet wines keep my body in hell. 
If I had it not I should take great thought.

How look ye, gossips, at the board’s end. 
Not merry, gossips?  God it amend,
All shall be well, else God it defend,
Be merry and glad, and sit not so sad.

Would God I had done after your counsel;
For my husband is so fell;
He beateth me like the Devil in hell;
And the more I cry the less mercy.

Alice with a loud voice spake then: 
I wis, she said, little good he can,
That beateth or striketh any woman,
And specially his wife, God give him short life.

Margaret meek said, so might I thrive;
I know no man that is alive
That give me two strokes, but he shall have five. 
I am not afeard though he have a beard.

One cast down her shot, and went away. 
Gossip, quoth Eleanour, what did she pay? 
Not but a penny!  So, therefore, I say
She shall no more be of our lore.

Such guests we may have enow,
That will not for their shot allow. 
With whom came she?  Gossip, with you? 
Nay, quoth Joan:  I came alone.

Now reckon our shot, and go we home,
What cometh to each of us but threepence? 
Pardye, that is but a small expense
For such a sort, and all but sport.

Turn down the street when ye come out,
And we will compass around about. 
Gossip, quoth Anne, what needeth that doubt,
Your husbands be pleased when ye be eased.

Whatsoever any man think,
We come for naught but for good drink. 
Now let us go home and wink,
For it may be seen where we have been.

This is the thought that gossips take. 
Once in a week merry they will make,
And all small drinks they will forsake;
But wine of the best shall have no rest.

Some be at the tavern thrice in the week,
And so be some every day eke,
Or else they will groan and make them seek,
For things used will not be refused.

We have thrown our net almost at random; yet there are few palates which will not have found something to please them among the specimens which we have brought together.  Let us repeat our hope that the entire collection may before long be committed to the more secure custody, as well as the more accessible form, of a printed volume.