The Canterbury Tales: The Miller's Tale
Somtyme, to shewe his lightnesse and maistrye,
He pleyeth Herodes on a scaffold hye.
. . . Nicholas shal shapen him a wyle
This sely jalous housbond to bigyle;
And if so be the game went aright,
She sholde slepen in his arm al night.
Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee.
Ye, blessed be alwey a lewed man,
That noght but oonly his bileve can!