What hap had I to marry a shrow!

What hap had I to marry a shrow!
For she hath given me many a blow,
And how to please her alack I do not know.

From morn to even her tongue ne'er lies,
Sometimes she brawls, sometimes she cries,
Yet I can scarce keep her talents from mine eyes.

If I go abroad and late come in,—
"Sir knave," saith she, "Where have you been?"
And do I well or ill she claps me on the skin.