An Epigramme alluding to the second Satyre of Ariosto

The Church-mens doctrine is humility,
Yet but obserue them, who more proude then they,
Whose Damaske cassockes shew their vanitie.
How should we then beleeue them what they say.
"Since what they taxe vs in, themselues bewray:
Its too too true: so that oft-times the Temple,
(Though th'house of God, giues lay-men worst example.
Crucem & coniugem vno petimus fato,
Hanging and marrying goe by destinie.

It is an axiome in Philosophie,
"Hanging and marrying goe by destinie;
Both reference haue vnto the doome of fate,
Both doe our birth and nature calculate:
Nor can we say these two be different far,
Sith both haue influence from one ominous star,
Which bodes our happinesse or our mischance
According to the starres predominance;
This made Arminus Caerthage-Ruler say
"That with a wife he could not well away:
For being askt why he with others share not,
Good fortune in good wiues (quoth he) I dare not,
For if I chance to light on one that's wise,
" She will be wilfull, felfe-lov'd, or precise,
" If wealthy, wanton, vowing to her friend,
" I shall be Cocold ere a fortnight end:
" If poore then peeuish, of condition shrewde:
" If bewtifull she will be monstrous proude;
" And if deformed, lothsome is she then,
" And th'least of these would kill a thousand men.
But now suppose, I could no longer tarrie,
But that I might doe either worse or marrie,
And that I sought a wife to fit my turne,
(For better tis to marrie then to burne)
Though many (they may thank their own good carriage)
Are all afire the first day of their marriage:
Why then as my position was at first,
This marriage-day is either best or worst
I ere was maister of: for if my wife
Be loyall as she ought, then is my life
Made double blest in her, where I may say,
"Each day lookes cheerefull like a mariage-day,
But if selfe-will'd vntamed, head-strong, froward,
Immodest indiscreete, peeuish, vntoward:
Why then through th'fury of her in-bred malice,
In climing to her bed, I clime to th' gallowes.
Where euery word that doth proceed from her
Strangles me like an Executioner;
Her humour is my neck-verse, which to sort
I cannot, if I should be hanged for't,
Her tongue's my torture, and her frisking taile,
Flies vp and downe like to a wind mills saile,
Her hands like Fullers wheels, one vp, one downe,
Which still lie malling on my costrell crowne:
Which ere I would endure to take her banging,
I would goe round to worke and take a hanging:
Since therefore Fate hath doomed this to thee,
Hanging or wiuing patient thou must be.