The Pain and Sorrow of Evil Marriage

In Short

This sixteenth-century poem, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, presents a cynical, didactic argument against the domestic "yoke" of marriage. Written from the perspective of a man who claims to have narrowly escaped a ruinous match through divine intervention, the text catalogs the alleged deceit, extravagance, and volatility of wives. It remains a fascinating historical artifact, offering a window into the gendered anxieties, social expectations, and literary conventions of early modern England, while mirroring the sharp, weary tone found in the works of Geoffrey Chaucer.

The Story

The narrative begins with a solemn address to a "lytell chylde," warning that time is irrecoverable and that youth should be dedicated to virtue rather than the folly of a hasty marriage. The speaker recounts his own near-miss: he was once intent on wedding a "fayre mayde" with "hasty wylfulnes," encouraged by peers who were themselves already suffering in their own unions. These friends, miserable in their own homes, sought to recruit him into their "woofull payne" simply to have company in their distress.

However, the narrator explains that he was saved from this "peryllous hell" by the wisdom of three allegorical figures—Peter, John, and Laurence—who acted as spiritual guardians. Through their intervention, he escaped the "deluge of mortall pestylence" that he associates with the wedding altar. He then describes the warnings provided by these figures, specifically citing "Johan with the golden mouthe," who asserts that wives are inherently "variable," and Peter, who claims they are prone to duplicity, pride, and sharp, crabbed language.

The poem moves into a bitter inventory of the husband’s plight. According to the author, a man who marries voluntarily chooses to abandon his freedom to become a "thrall." The wife is depicted as a "beeste" of insatiable desires, likened to a swallow or a dangerous siren who delights in public spectacles, pilgrimages, and high-status stages, while remaining indifferent to the financial costs her husband must bear. If the husband thrives, the wife claims the credit; if he fails, it is his own mismanagement. If he remains poor, he is a "wastour"; if he is not a good provider, he is subject to public mockery and betrayal.

Ultimately, the text concludes that wedlock is an "endlesse penaunce" or a "martyrdom." There is no legal or emotional escape from the snare once it has been entered. The narrator advises that for those already trapped, the only path is to practice total patience, say nothing, and "thank God" for whatever crumbs of kindness a wife might deign to offer. For those still free, the advice is absolute: withdraw your feet from the trap before it closes, for no poison is as deadly as a "wyfe double of her entent."

How It Unfolds

The warning to youth The poem opens by urging young readers to avoid the waste of time and the loss of wit that accompanies a poorly considered life. It establishes the central metaphor of marriage as a permanent bond that leads to inevitable mourning.

The narrow escape The narrator describes his own brush with matrimony, explaining how he was pressured by unhappy peers to join them in their suffering. He attributes his sudden salvation to the intervention of three holy figures, whom he credits with pulling him back from the brink of "hell gates."

The critique of the wife The text details the alleged character flaws of women, characterizing them as fickle, expensive, and argumentative. It argues that a husband is essentially a servant who must obey his wife’s whims while bearing the full blame for any household misfortune.

The impossibility of peace The author explains that there is no remedy for a bad marriage once it has been contracted. The husband is advised to adopt a policy of silence and stoicism, enduring his lot as a martyr to his own foolishness.

The final prohibition The poem closes by reinforcing its original warning, labeling the wife as a "peryllous serpent." It reiterates that young men must steer clear of the institution entirely to preserve their peace, wealth, and soul.

The People

The Narrator acts as the primary voice, a man who positions himself as a survivor of a potentially disastrous fate. He is defined by his intense relief at having avoided marriage, though his bitterness suggests he is deeply preoccupied with the subject. He views himself as a teacher to the young, motivated by the desire to prevent others from falling into the "snare" that nearly claimed him.

The Friends represent the cautionary tales. They are already married and miserable, yet they act with a perverse malice, attempting to lure the narrator into their own state of unhappiness. Their desire to see him "partable" in their pain serves as a grim reflection of their own dissatisfaction.

The Three Guardians—Peter, John, and Laurence—function as the narrator’s moral compass and the source of his anti-marriage rhetoric. They provide the "sentence" or authoritative wisdom that justifies his cynicism. Through their voices, the author elevates his personal complaint into a broader, pseudo-theological warning.

The Wife is not a character in the sense of a specific person, but rather an archetype of the "shrew." She is depicted as a singular, volatile force—a "beeste" and a "serpent"—who creates the "tempest" that defines the husband's life. She is consistently portrayed as the antagonist, an entity that is inherently unchangeable, demanding, and ultimately destructive to the man who tries to govern her.

In Its Own Voice

The narrator reflects on the heavy burden that follows the wedding vows:

Who taketh a wyfe receyveth a great charge, In whiche he is full lyke to have a fall: With tempest tossed, as is a besy barge.

He draws upon the biblical wisdom of Solomon to illustrate the domestic miseries a husband faces:

And Salomon sayth there be thynges thre, Shrewde wyves, rayne, and smokes blake Make husbandes ofte theyr houses to forsake.

He offers a final, bleak assessment of the marital bond for those who cannot avoid the snare:

There is no greter grefe nor feller poyson, Nor none so dredeful peryllous serpent, As is a wyfe double of her entent.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this text is a meditation on the loss of agency. It frames marriage as a zero-sum game where one party’s gain is the other’s servitude. The central argument is that the desire for marriage is a form of "wilfulness" that blinds young men to the reality of domestic labor and the volatility of human relationships. It asks fundamental questions about the nature of freedom and the capacity for change. By portraying the wife as an unchangeable, siren-like force, the author argues that the only way to maintain one’s spiritual and financial integrity is to avoid the institution entirely, positioning the "unmarried" life as the only path to true, undisturbed devotion to one's own virtues.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of ideas or the evolution of satire will find this text compelling. It is not a gentle read; its tone is sharp, repetitive, and unapologetically misogynistic, reflecting the harsh social attitudes of its era. If you are accustomed to the nuanced portraits of women in Chaucer’s work, you will recognize the influence, yet you may find the author’s singular, unrelenting bitterness quite striking in its intensity.

The experience of reading it feels like stepping into a heated, centuries-old debate. The language, while distinct to its time, is rhythmic and clear, making the author’s disdain easy to follow even across five centuries. You will likely walk away struck by the sheer consistency of the anxiety expressed here—a fear of being "tossed from pillar to post" by the demands of a changing household. It is not a book for those seeking a balanced view of historical domestic life, but for those who want to understand the anxieties of the medieval and early modern mind, it offers an unfiltered, if deeply flawed, glimpse into the "pain and sorrow" that the author insists is the only outcome of an "evil marriage."