| 480 | Now wyl I telle of my fourthe husbonde | |
| | I | Sey he hadde in his herte a gret despyte | |
| | That I ony other hadde delyt | |
| | But he was quyt by god and by seynt Iose | |
| | I made hym of the same wode a croce | |
| 485 | Nat of my body in no foul manere | |
| | But certenly I made folk suche chere | |
| | That in his owen grece I made hym frye | |
| | For angir and for verry Ielousye | |
| | Be god in erthe I was his verry purgatory | |
| 490 | For whiche I hope his soule be in glorye | |
| | For god it woot he sat ful ofte and songe | |
| | When that his sho bittirly hym wronge | |
| | Ther was no wight saue god and he that wyste | |
| | In many wyse how sore I did hym twiste | |
| 495 | He deyde when I com fro Iherusalem | |
| | And lith I graued vnder the Rode beem | |
| | Al is not his toumbe so curius | |
| | As was the sepulcre of hym Darius | |
| | Whiche that appelles wroughte subtilly | |
| 500 | It is but wast to birye hym preciously | |
| | Let him fare wel god yeue his soule good reste | |
| | He is now in his graue and leyd in his cheste | |
| | N | Ow of my fyfthe husbonde wol I telle | |
| | God let her soulis neuer come in helle | |
| 505 | And yet was the fyfthe to me the moste shrewe | |
| | That fele I on my ribbis reewe by rewe | |
| | And euer shal vnto myn endyng day | |
| | But in our bed he was ful fresh and gay | |
