# The Wife of Beith (1800)

Geoffrey Chaucer is bibliographic antecedent, but not author.
WIFE OF BEITH.
REFORMED AND CORRECTED.
Edinburgh: Printed by J. Morren.
TO THE
READER.
COURTEOUS Reader, what was Papal or heretical, in the former copy, is left out in this Edition: for their is nothing that c n offend the wiſe and jndicious not being taken up in a literal ſenſe, but by way of allegory and mystical which thus may edify.
The whole Dialogue is nothing but that which is recorded in Scripture for our example, wherefore I appeal from the cenſorious and capricious critics, who ſtart at ſtraws and leap over blocks: and whoſe natures with the waſp is to ſuck nothing but venom out of the ſweeteſt flowers; upon the judicious and wiſe, who can regiſtrate virtue with the point of a diamond into the rock of eternal memory, and vice into oblivion ſand, and whoſe genius is with the bee to extract honey out of the bittereſt flower.
Therefore the one may read, and be edified the other read and be offended: let dogs bark what they will, the moon is ſtill the ſame. Farewell.
THE WIFE OF BEITH.
IN Beith once dwelt a worthy wife, Of whom brave Chaucer mention makes, She lived a licentious life And namely in venereal acts. But death did come for all her cracks, When years were ſpent and days outdriven, Then ſuddenly ſhe ſickneſs takes Deceaſt forthwith, and went to heaven, But as ſhe went upon the way, There followed her a certain guide, And kindly to her he did ſay Where mean you dame for to abide? I know thou art the wife of Beith, And would not then that you go wrong, For I'm your friend and will be leath, That you go through this narrow throng, This road is broader, go with me, And very pleaſant is the way; I'll bring you there where you would be, Go with me friend, ſay me not nay. She looked on him and then did ſpeer, I pray you Sir, what is your name? Show me the way how you came here, To tell to me it it is no ſhame, Is that a favour about your neck; And what is that upon your ſide; Is it a bag or ſilver ſack? What are you then? Where do you bide? ​I was a ſervant unto Chriſt, And Judas likewiſe is my name. I knew you by your colours firſt, Forſooth indeed you was to blame; Your maſter did you not betray? And hanged yourſelf when you had done? Where'er you bide I will not ſtay: Go then you knave let me alone. Whatever I be I'll be your guide, Becauſe you know not well the way Will ye but once in me confide, I'll do all friendſhip that I may, What would you me? where do you dwell I have no will to go with thee: I fear it is ſome lower cell I pray thee therefore let me be. This is a ſtormy night and cold, I'll bring you to a warm inn Will ye go forward and be bold, And send your pace till we win in. I fear your inn will be too warm, For too much hotness is not beſt; Such hotness there may do me harm, And keep me that I do not reſt. I know your way it is to hell, For you are none of the eleven Go haſte you then into your cell, My way is only unto heaven. That way is by the gates of hell, If you intend there for to go, Go dame, I will not you compel, But I with you will go also. ​Then down they went a right ſteep hill, Where smoke and darkness did abound, And pitch and sulphur burned still, With yells and cries hills did rebound. The fiend himself came to the gate, And asked where he had been, Do you not know and have forgot, Seeking this wife could not be seen. Good dame he said, Would you be here I pray you then tell me your name? The Wife of Beith, since that you speer, But to come in I was to blame, I will not have you hear good dame, For ye are miſtress of the ſlyting, If once within this gate you came, I will be troubled with your biting; Cummer go back, and let me be, Here are too many of your rout; For women lewed like unto thee, I cannot turn my foot about. Sir Thief, I say, I shall bide out. But gossip thou wast ne'er to me, For to come in, I'm not ſo ſtout And of my biting thou'ſt be free, But Lucifer what’s that to thee: Haſt thou no water in this place? Thou lookeſt ſo black it ſeems to me, Thou ne'er doſt waſh thy ugly face, If we had water here to drink, We would not care for waſhing then, Into theſe flames and filthy ſtink, We burn with fire unto the doom: ​Upbraid me then goodwife, no more, For, firſt when I heard of thy name, I knew thou hadſt ſuch words in ſtore Would make the devil to think ſhame. Forſooth Sir Thief you are to blame, If I had time now to abide, Once you were well but may think ſhame, That loſt heaven for rebellious pride; Who traitor-like fell with the reſt Becauſe you would not be content, And now of bliſs you're deſpoſſeſt, Without all grace for to repent, Thou madſt poor Eve long ſince conſent, To ent of the forbidden tree; (Which we her daughters may repent,) And made us almoſt like to thee; But God be bleſt who paſs'd the by. And did a Saviour provide: For Adam's whole poſterity. To all who do in him confide. Adieu, falſe fiend I may not bide, With thee I may no longer ſtay, My God in death he was my guide O er hell I'll get the victory. Then up the hill the poor wife went, O preſt with ſtinking flames and fear, Weeping right ſore with great relent, For o go elſe ſhe wiſt not where: A narrow way with thorns and briars, And full of mire was her before: She ſighed oft with ſobs and tears, The poor wife s heart was wondrous ſore; ​Tir'd and torn ſhe went on ſtill, Sometimes ſhe ſat and ſometimes ſhe fell, Ay till ſhe came to a high hill, And then ſhe looked back to hell. When ſhe had climbed up the hill, Before her was a goodly plain; Where ſhe did reſt and weep her fill, Then roſe and to her feet again Her heart was glad the way was good, Up to the hill ſhe hy'd with haſte. The flowers were fair whereon ſhe ſtood, The fields were pleaſant to her taſte. Then ſhe beheld Jeruſalem, On Sion's mount where that it ſtood, Shining with gold, bright as the ſun, Her ſilly ſoul was very glad, The ports of orient pearls bright, Were very glorious to behold; The precious ſtones gave a clear light, The walls were of tranſparent gold, High were the walls, the gates were ſhut, And long ſhe fought for to be in: But then for fear of biding out, She knocked hard and made ſome din. To knock and cry ſhe did not ſpare, Till father Adam did her hear,
Who is't that raps ſo loudly there, Heaven can ot well be won by weir The wife of Beith ſince that you ſpeer, Hath ſtood theſe two hours at the gate. Go back quoth he, thou muſt forbear Here may no ſinners entrance get. ​Adam, quoth she I shall be in In ſpite of all ſuch churles as the; Thou art the original of all ſin, For eating of the forbidden tree, But for thy foul offences ſlyting free, Adam went back and let her be, Looking as if his noſe had bled, Then mother Eve did at him ſpeer, Who was it there that made ſuch din? He ſaid a woman would be here, For me I durſt not let her in. I'll go ſaid she and ask her will, Her company I would have fain. But ay she cry d and knoked ſtill, And in no ways would ſhe refrain. Daughter, ſaid Eve, you will do well, To come again another time; Heaven's not won by ſword nor ſteel, Nor one that's guilty of a crime. Mother ſaid she the fault is thine, That knocking here ſo long I ſtand. Thy guilt is more than that of mine, If thou wilt right'y underſtand, Thou waſt the cauſe of all our ſin, Wherein we were born and conceiv'd, Our miſery thou didſt begin, By thee thy huſband was deceiv'd. Eve went back where Noah was And told him all how she was blam'd Of her ⟨great sin⟩ and firſt treſspaſs Whereof she was ſo much asham'd. ​Then Noah ſaid I will go down And will forbid her that she knock, Go back he said ye drunken loon, You're none of the celestial flock, Noah, ſhe ſaid, hold thou thy peace, Where I drank ale thou didſt drink wine, Diſcovered was to thy diſgrace, When thou wss drunken like a ſwine, For I did did drink I learn'd at thee, If thou'rt the Father and the first, That others taught, and likewise me, To drink although we had no thirst. Then Noah turned back with ſpeed; And told the Patriarch Abra'am then, How that the old carline made him dread, And how she all his deeds did ken. Abraham then said, Now get you gane. Let us no more hear of your din, No lying wife as I ſuppone, May enter here theſe gates within. Abraham, she said, will ye but ſpare, I hope you are not ſlyting free; You of yourſelf had ſuch a care, Deny'd your wife and made a lee; O then I pray you let me be, For I repent of all my ſin; Do thou but open the gate to me, And let me then come quickly in. Abraham went back to Jacob then, And told his Nephew how he sped, How that of her he nothing wan. And that he thought the Carline mad. ​Then down came Jacob through the cloſe, And ſaid go backward down to hell. Jacob, quoth ſhe, I know thy voice, That gate pertaineth to thy ſell; Of thy old trumperies I can tell, Thou with two ſiſters 'edd ſt thy life And the third part of theſe tribes twelve, Thou got with maids beſides thy wife, And ſtole thy father's benniſon, Only by fraud thy father frae, Gave thou not him for veniſon A kid inſtead of a baken rae. Jacob himſelf was tickled ſo, He went to Lot where he was lying. And to the gate prayed him to go, To ſtaunch the auld wife of her crying. Lot ſays Fair maid make leſs ado, And come again another day. Old harlot carle and drunkard too, Thou with thine own daughters lay Of thine untimely ſeed I ſay, Proceeded never good but ill. Poor Lot for ſhame then ſtole away, And left the wife to knock her fill. Meek Moſes then went down at laſt To pacify the carline then: Now dame ſaid he don t knock ſo faſt, Your knocking will not let you ben. Good Sir, ſaid ſhe I am aghaſt, Whene'er I look you in the face, If your law until now had laſt, Then ſurely I had ne'er got grace. ​But Moſes, Sir, now by your cave, Although in heaven your poſſeſt, For all you ſaw did not believe, But you in Horeb once tran greſt, Wherefore by al it is confeſt You got but the land to ſee, And in the mount were put to reſt, Yea buried there where you did die. Moſes meekly turned back, And told his brother Aaron there, How the old carline did ſo crack, And in no ways did him forbear, Then Aaron ſaid, I will not ſwear But I'll conjure her as I can And I will make her to forbear, So that ſhe ſhall not rap again. Then Aaron ſaid you whoriſh wife, Go get you gone and rap no more; (With idols you have led your life,) Or then you ſhall repent it ſore. Good Aaron, prieſt, I know thee well, The golden calf you may remember Who made the people plagues to feel, This is of you recorded ever: Your prieſthood now is nothing worth, Chriſt is my only prieſt and he My Lord, that will not keep me forth, So I'll get in in ſpite of thee, Upſtarted Samſon at the laſt, Unto the gate apace came he, To drive away the wife with ſtrength, But all in vain, it would not be. ​Samſon ſaid ſhe, the world may ſee, Thou waſt a judge that prov'd unjuſt Theſe gracious gifts which God gave thee, Thou loſt by thy lecencious luſt. From Delilah thy wicked wife, Thy ſecrets chief could not refrain, She daily fought to take thy life. Thou loſt thy locks, and then was slain, Though thou wast strong it was in vain, Haunting with harlots here and there, Then Samson turned back again, And with the wife would mell nae mair. Then ſaid King David knock not so sair, We are all troubled with your cry. David, she ſaid, how cam'ſt thou there, Thou might'ſt bide out as well as I: Thy deeds no ways thou canſt deny. Are not thy sins far worse than mine? Who with Uriah's wife did ly And caus'd him to be murder'd ſyne. Then Judith said, Who's there that knocks. And to our neighbours give these notes? Madam, ſaid ſhe let be your mocks, I came not here for cutting throats, I am a sinner full of blots, Yet through Chriſts blood I ſhall be clean. If you and I be judg'd by votes, The thing you did was worſe than mine. Then ſaid the ſapient Solomon, Tho art a sinner all men ſay, Therefore our Saviour I ſuppone, Thee heavenly entrance will deny. ​Mind quoth ſhe thy latter days, What fool gods thou didſt upset, And was so lewd in Venus plays, Thou did thy maker quite forget, Then Jonas ſaid Fair maid content you. If you intend to come to grace You muſt dree pennance and repent you, 'Ere you can come into this place. Jonas, quoth ſhe, how ſtands the caſe, How came you here to be with Chriſt? How dare you look him in the face, Considering how you broke your tryſt, To God's errand thou withſtood him, And heldſt his counsel in diſdain, The corby messenger thou plaid'ſt him,
And brought no message back again: With mercy thou waſt not content, When God the Ninevites did ſpare; Although the city did repent, It grieved thee, thy heart was ſore. Let me alone and ſpeak no more, Go back into the Whale, But now my heart is alſo ſore. But yet I hope I ſhall prevail, Good Jonas ſaid. Crack on your fill, For here I may no longer tarry ; Yet kock as long as ever you will, And go into a firry farry. Jonas ſhe ſa s ye do miſcarry, As I have done in former time. Ye're not Saint Peter nor Saint Mary, You're blots as blaok as ever mine. ​So Jonas then he was aſhamed, Becauſe he was not fl ting free, Of all the faults ſhe had him blamed, He left the wife and let her be. Saint Thomas then I counſel thee, Go ſpeak unto this wicked wife, She ſhames us all, and as for me, Her like I never heard in life. Thomas then ſaid you make ſuch ſtrife: When you are out and meik'e din, If ye were here I'll lay my life, No peace the ſaints will get within: It is your trade to be ſlyting, As one who in a fever raves, No marvel though you wives be biting, Your tongues were made of aſpen leaves. Thomas, quoth ſhe let be your taunts You play the pick-thank I perceive Though you be brothered among the ſaints. An unbelieving heart you have: You brought the Lord unto the grave, But would no more with him remain, And were the laſt of all the lave, That did believe he roſe again. There might no doctrine do thee good, Nor miracles make thee confide, Till thou beheld Chriſt's wounds and blood, And put thy hand into his ſide.
Didſt thou not daily with him bide, And ſee the wonders which he wrought, But bleſt are they who do confide, And do believe, yet ſaw him nought. ​Thomas, ſhe ſays, will ye but ſpeer, If that my ſiſter Magdalen, Will come to me if ſhe be here, For comfort ſure you give me nane. He was ſo blythe he turned back, And thanked God that he was gane, He had no will to hear her crack, But told it Mary Magdalen. When that ſhe heard her ſiſter's knocks, She went unto the gate with ſpeed: And asked her who's there that knocks? 'Tis I, the wife of Beith, indeed. She ſaid, Good Miſtreſs you muſt ſtand, Till you be tried by tribulation. Siſter, quoth ſhe, give me your hand, Are we not of one vocation? It is not through your occupation, That you are placed ſo divine: My faith is fixed on Chriſt s paſſion, My ſoul ſhall be as ſafe as thine, Then Mary went away in haſte The carline made her ſo aſhamed, She had no will of ſuch a gueſt, To loſe her pains and ſo be blamed. Now good St Paul ſaid Magdalen, Becauſe you are a learned man. Go and convince this woman then, For I have, done all that I can : Sure if ſhe were in hell I doubt, They would not keep her longer there But to the gate would put her out, And ſend her back to be elſewhere. ​Then went the good apoſtle Paul, To put the wife in better tune; Waſh of that filth than ſyles thy ſaul, Then shall heaven s gates be open'd soon, Remember Paul what thou haſt done, For all the Epiſtles thou did compile, Though now thou sitteſt up aboou, Thou persecu'edst Christ a while. Woman he said, thou art not right, That which I did, I did not know, But thou didſt sin with all thy might, Although the preachers did thee show, Saint Paul ſhe ſaid it is not ſo,
I did not know as well as ye; But I will to my Saviour go, Who will his favour show to me, You think you are of ſlyting free, Because you were wrapt up above, But yet it was Chriſt's love to thee, And matchlessness of his dear love. Then Paul ſaid ſhe, let Peter come, If he be lying let him riſo To him I will confess my sin And let him quickly bring the keys. Too long I ſtand, he'll let me in, For why I cannot longer tarry Then shall you all be quite of din. For I must speak with good Saint Mary. The good Apoſtle diſcontent, Right suddenly he turned ſtruck, For he did very much repent, To hear the carline proudly crack. ​Paul ſays good borther now ariſe, And make an end of all this din, And if ſo be you have the keys, Open and let the carline in. The apoſtle Peter roſe at laſt. And to the gate with ſpeed he hies. Carline quoth he, knock not so faſt, You cumber Mary with your cries, Peter, she ſaid let Christ ariſe, And grant me mercy in my need, For why I ne'er deny d him thrice As thou thyself has done indeed. Thou Carline bold, What's that to thee? I got remission for my sins; It cost many sad tears to me, Before I entered here within. It will not be thy miekle din, Will cauſe heav'n's gates opened be, Thou must be purefied from sin, And of all treſſpaſſes made free. St Peter then no thanks to you, That so you were rid of your fears, It was Chriſt's gracious look, I true,
That made you shed those precious tears, The door of mercy is not clos'd, I may get grace as well as ye. It is rot so as ye suppos'd, I will be in inspite of thee. But wicked wife it is too late. Thou should'ſt have mourn'd upon earth, Repentance now is out of date. It should have been before thy death: ​Thou mighteſt then have turned wrath To mercy then, and mercy got, But now the Lord is very loath, And all thy cries not worth a jot. Ah Peter then what ſhall I do? He will not hear me as I fear, Shall I deſpair of mercy too! No, no, I'll truſt in mercy dear: And if I periſh here I'll ſtay, And never go from heaven bright, I'll ever hope and always pray Until I get my Saviour's ſight, I think indeed now you are right, If you had faith you could win in; Importune then with all your might, Faith is the feet where with you come: It is the hands will hold him faſt, But weak faith never may preſume: 'Twi l let you ſink and be aghaſt, Strongly believe or you're undone. But good Saint Peter let me be, Had you ſuch faith, did it abound, When you did walk upon the ſea Were you not likely to be drowned, Had not your Saviour helped thee, Who care and took the by the hand, So can my Lord do unto me, And bring me to the promiſed land, Is my faith weak? yet he is ſtill The ſame and ever ſhall remain: His mercies laſt and his good will, To bring me to his flock again. ​He will me help and me relieve, And will increaſe my faith alſo; If weakly I can but believe: For from this place I'll never go. But Peter ſaid how can that be: How darſt thou look him in the face. Sure horrid ſinners like to thee, Can have no courage to get grace: Here none comes in but thoſe that's ſtout, And ſuffered have for the good cauſe: Like unto thee are keeped out, For thou haſt broke all Moſes laws. Peter, ſhe ſaid, I do appeal From Moſes, and from thee alſo, With you and him I'll not prevail, But to my Saviour I will go. Indeed of old you were right ſtout, When you did cut off Malchu s ear: But after that you went about, And a poor maiden did you fear. Wherefore Saint Peter, do forbear, A comforter indeed you're not, Let me alone, I do not fear Take home the wiſſel of your groat. Was it your own or Paul s good ſword, When that your courage was ſo keen, You were right ſtout upon my word, When you would fain at fighting been. For ere the crowing of the cock, You did deny your maſter thrice, For your ſtoutneſss turned a block; Now ſlyte no more if you be wiſe ​Yet at the laſt the Lord aroſe, Enviorned with angles bright, And to the wife in haſte he goer, Deſired her to paſs ought of ſight, O Lord qoth ſhe cauſe do me right, But not according to my ſin; Have you not promiſ'd day and night, When ſinners knock, to let them in? He ſaid thou wreſts the scriptures wrong, The night is come thou ſpend'ſt the day, In whoredom thou haſt lived long, And to repent thou didſt delay; Still my commandments thou abuſ'd, And vice committedſt buſily; Since now my mercy thou refus'ſt, Go down to hell eternally. O Lord my ſoul doth teſtify, That I have ſpent my life in vain, Ah! make a wandering ſheep of me, And bring me to thy flock again. Think ſt thou there is no count to crave, Of all the gifts in thee I planted, I gave thee beauty above the lave, A pregnant wit thou never wanted. Maſter quoth ſhe it muſt be granted, My ſins are greet give me contrition: The forlorn ſon, when he repented, Obtain'd his father's full rmeiſsion. I ſpar'd my judgments many times. And ſpiritual paſtores did the ſend, But thou renewd'ſt thy former crimes, Ay more and more me to offend. ​My lord quoth ſhe I do intend, Lamenting for my former vice; The poor thief, at the latter end, For one word went to paradiſe. The thief heard never of my teachings, My heavenly teachings and my laws, But thou waſt daily at my preachings, Both heard, and ſaw and yet mickaws. Maſter quoth ſhe the ſcripture ſays, The Jewiſh woman who play'd the lown, Conform unto the Hebrew laws, Was brought to thee to be put down. But nevertheless thou let her go, And madeſt the Pharaſers afraid. Indeed ſays Chriſt it was right ſo, And that my bidding was obey'd. Woman, he ſaid, I may not caſt The children's bread to dogs like thee, Although m mercies ſtill do laſt, There's mercy here but not for thee. But loving Lord may I preſume, Poor w rm that I may ſpeak again, The dogs for hunger were undone, And of the crumbs they were right fain, Grant me one crumb that then doth fall, From thy bleſt children's table Lord, That I may be refreſh'd withal, It will me help enough afford. The gates of mercy now are cloſed, And thou canſt hardly enter in; It is not ſo as thou ſuppos'd For thou art deadly ſick in ſin, ​'Tis true indeed, my Lord moſt meek, My ſore and ſickneſs I do feel; Yet thou the ſame didſt truly ſeek, Who lay long at Bethſida's pool, Of many that the never fought, Like to the poor Samaritan, Whom thou unto thy fold haſt brought, Even as thou didſt the idow of N in, Moſt gracious God, did thou not bid, All that are weary come to thee, Behold I come! even o'er-land
With ſin have mercy upon me. The iſſues of thy ſoul are great Thou art both lep'rous and unclean, To be with me thou art not fit, Go from me then, let me alone. Let me thy garments once but touch, My bloody garments ſhall be whole, It will not coſt thee very much To ſave a poor diſtreſſed ſoul, Speak thou the word I ſhall be whole, One look of thee ſhall do me good, Save now good Lord my ſilly ſoul, Bought with thine own moſt precious blood, Let me alone none of my blood, Was ever ſhed of ſuch as thee. It was thy mercy, patience good, Which from damnation ſet me free. It is confeſt thou hadſt been juſt, Although thou hadſt condemned me, But ah! thy mercie ſtill do aſt, To ſave the ſ u that truſts in thee. ​Let me not then condemned be, Moſt humble Lord I thee requeſt. Of ſinners all none like me So much the more thy praiſe ſhall laſt. Thy praiſing me is not perſite, My ſaints ſhall praiſe me evermore In ſinners I have no delight,
Such ſacrifice I do abhor. Then ſhe unto the Lord did ſay, At footſtool of thy grace I'll lye Sweet Lord my God ſay me not nay, For if I periſh, here I'll die Poor ſilly woman ſpeak no more, Thy faith, poor ſoul has ſaved thee, Enter thou into my glory, And reſt through all eternity. How ſoon our Saviour theſe words ſaid, A long white robe to her was given; And then the angels did her lead Forthwith into the gates of heaven: A laurel crown, ſet on her head Spangled with rubies and with gold, A bright white palm ſhe alſo had, Glorious it was for to behold; Her face did ſhine like to the ſun, Like threads of gold her hair hang down, Her eyes h e lamps unto the moon, Of precious ſtones rich was her crown. Angels and Saints did welcome her, The heavenly choir did ſign, rejoice, King David with his harp was there: And ſilver bells made a great noiſe. ​Such muſic and ſuch melody, Was never either heard or seen, When this poor ſaint was placed on high, And of all her ſins made freely clean, But then when ſhe was thus poſseſt, And looked back on all her fears, And that ſhe was come to all er reſt, Freed from her ſins and all her tears, She from her head did take the crown, Giving all praiſe to Chriſt on high, And at his feet ſhe laid it down Becauſe the lamb had made her free. Now ſhe doth ſing triumphantly, And ſhall rejoice, for evermore, O'er death and hell victoriously, With laſting pleaſures laid in ſtore.
CONCLUSION.
Or Wife of Beith I make an end, And do theſe lines with this conclude, Let none their lives in ſin now ſpend, But watch and pray, be doing good, Deſpondent ſouls do not deſpair, Repent and ſtill believe in Chriſt, His mercies, which laſt evermore. Will ſave the ſouls that in him truſt.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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