Page:Wife of Beith reformed and corrected.pdf/14

So Jonas then was asham'd,
Because he was not flyting free;
Of all his faults she had him blam'd,
He left the wife and let her be
Saint Thomas then I counsel thee,
Go speak unto yon 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 meikle din,
If you were here I'll lay my life
No peace the saints would get within.
It is your trade still to be flyting,
As one that 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 preceive,
Though you be brother'd mong the saints,
An unbelieving heart you have;
You bring the Lord unto his 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 made thee conside.
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 conside,

And do believe, yet saw him nought.