Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Copy
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=542971" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A mery Iest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes in France, a woman dwelt,<br>Whose husband being dead:<br>Within a yeere, or somwhat more,<br>An other did her wed.<br>This good wife had of wealth great store,<br>Yet was her wit but thin:<br>To shew what happe to her befell,<br>My Muse doth now begin.<br>It chaunced that a scholler poore,<br>Attirde in course aray,<br>To see his friends that dwelt farre thence,<br>From Paris tooke his way:<br>The garments were all rent and torne<br>Wherwith this wight was clad:<br>And in his purse, to serue his neede,<br>Not one deneere he had:<br>Hee was constrainde to craue the almes,<br>Of those which oft would giue,<br>His needy and his poore estate<br>With some thing to relieue.<br>This scholler on a frostie morne,<br>By chaunce came to the doore:<br>Of this old silly womans house,<br>Of whome wee spake before.<br>The husband then was not at home,<br>Hee craueth of the dame:<br>Who had him in, and gaue him meate,<br>And askt from whence hee came.<br>I came (quoth hee) from Paris towne,<br>From Paradise (quoth she)<br>Men call that Paradise the place,<br>Where all good soules shalbe.<br>Cham zure my vurst goodman is dere,<br>Which died this other yeere:<br>Chould geue my friend a good gray groate,<br>Some newes of him to heare.<br>Hee saw shee did mistake his wordes,<br>And thought to make some glee:<br>And saide, your husband is in health,<br>I lately did him see.<br>Now by my troth (quoth shee) cham glad,<br>Good scholler doe declare:<br>Was not hee wroth, because I sent<br>Him from this world so bare?<br>In deede (quoth he) he was disppleasd,<br>And thought it farre vnmeete,<br>You hauing all to send him hence,<br>With nothing but a sheete.<br>(Quoth shee) good scholer, let me know,<br>When thou returnst agayne,<br>Hee answerd, Dame I will be there,<br>Within this weeke or twayne.<br>Shee sayde, my friend if that iche durst<br>Presume to be so bolde,<br>Chould pray thee carrie him some clothes,<br>To keepe him from the colde.<br>Hee saide he woulde with all poste haste,<br>Into the towne shee hies,<br>Hat, doublet, shert, coate, hose and shoes.<br>Shee there for husband buyes,<br>Shee praying him in earnest sorte,<br>It safely to conuey,<br>Did geue him money in his purse,<br>And so he went his way,<br>Not halfe of halfe an howre was past,<br>Ere husband hers was come,<br>What newes shee heard from Paradise,<br>Shee tolde him all and some.<br>And farther did to him declare,<br>What token shee had sent,<br>Whereat her husband waxed wroth,<br>And woondrous ill content.<br>He calde her sotte, and doating foole,<br>And after him doth ride,<br>The Scholler was within a Hedge,<br>And him a farre espide.<br>Hee was afrayde, and downe doeth fling<br>His fardell in a dike,<br>The man came neere, and askt him newes,<br>Of one whom hee did seeke.<br>That bare a fardell at his backe,<br>The scholler musde a while,<br>Then answearing, said, such one I saw,<br>Passe ouer yonder style.<br>With hasty speede he downe alightes,<br>And doth the scholler pray,<br>Till he the man had ouertane,<br>So long the horse to stay.<br>Untill hee passed out of sight,<br>Full still the scholer bides,<br>Who taking then his fardell on<br>His horse, away he rides.<br>When he returnd and saw himselfe,<br>By scholer flouted so,<br>Your selues may iudge what cheere he made,<br>If he were wroth or no.<br>He sware I thinke a hundred oathes,<br>At length per mundum toots,<br>For that he had no shoes to weare,<br>Martch homewardes in his bootes.<br>His wife did meete him at the doore.<br>Hayee cought man? (quoth shee)<br>No Dame (he sayde) he caught my horse:<br>The Diuel take him and thee.<br>With that shee laught, and clapt her hands,<br>And sayde cham glad ich sweare,<br>For nowe he hath a horse to ride,<br>He wilbe quickly there.<br>When that her husband well had wayde,<br>That remedy there was none,<br>He takes his fortune in good parte,<br>And makes no farther mone.<br>Now whether that this honest wife,<br>Did loue her first good man,<br>To such as shall peruse this tale,<br>The case I leaue to scan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Humfrey+Gifford">Humfrey Gifford</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=542971" data-title="A mery Iest de Humfrey Gifford" data-description="Sometimes in France, a woman dwelt, Whose husband being dead: Within a yeere, or somwhat more, An other did her wed. This good wife had of wealth great store, Yet was her wit but thin: To shew what happe to her befell, My Muse doth now begin. It c..."></div> </div> </div>
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black