The portal hinges grate,- they come-
The din of voices rocks the dome.
In stalk the various forms, and drest
In various armours, various veft,

With helm and morion, targe and shield,
Some quivering launces couch, some biting maces

wield: All march with haughty step, all proudly shake the

creft.

V OU men that are well wiued,

I And yet doe rail on fate, As though you were depriued

Thereby of happy state; Learne well to be contented

With a good wife, if you get her, For often when the old wife's dead,

Seldome comes the better,

I now haue one that's not content

With any thing I doe;
The others tongue did me torment,

This scolds and beates mee too.
I thought when I was rid of one,

That Fortune was my debtor;
But now I see, when one wife's gone,

That seldome comes the better.