"And certeinly, as sooth as god is king, To take a wyf, it is a glorious thing, And namely whan a man is old and hoor; Thanne is a wyf the fruit of his tresor. Than sholde he take a yong wyf and a feir, On which he mighte engendren him an heir, And lede his lyf in joye and in solas, Wher-as thise bacheleres singe ‘allas,’ Whan that they finden any adversitee In love, which nis but childish vanitee. And trewely it sit wel to be so, That bacheleres have often peyne and wo; On brotel ground they builde, and brotelnesse They finde, whan they wene sikernesse. They live but as a brid or as a beste, In libertee, and under non areste, Ther-as a wedded man in his estaat Liveth a lyf blisful and ordinaat, Under the yok of mariage y-bounde; Wel may his herte in joye and blisse habounde. For who can be so buxom as a wyf? Who is so trewe, and eek so ententyf To kepe him, syk and hool, as is his make?"