Volume Ii Part 48 (1/2)
SON. When all is said and all is done, Concerning all things, both more and less, Yet like to the school none under the sun Bringeth to children so much heaviness.
FATHER. What, though it be painful, what, though it be grievous, For so be all things at the first learning, Yet marvellous pleasure it bringeth unto us, As a reward for such painstaking.
Wherefore come off, and be of good cheer, And go to thy book without any fear, For a man without knowledge (as I have read) May well be compared to one that is dead.
SON. No more of the school; no more of the book; That woful work is not for my purpose, For upon those books I may not look: If so I did, my labour I should lose.
FATHER. Why then to me thy fancy [doth] express, That the school matters to thee are counted weariness.
SON. Even as to a great man, wealthy and rich, Service and bondage is a hard thing, So to a boy, both dainty and nice,[300]
Learning and study is greatly displeasing.
FATHER. What, my child, displeasing, I pray thee, That maketh a man live so happily?
SON. Yea, by my troth, such kind of wisdom Is to my heart, I tell you, very loathsome.
FATHER. What trial thereof hast thou taken, That the school of thee is so ill bespoken?
SON. What trial thereof would ye fain know?
Nothing more easy than this to show: At other boys' hands I have it learned, And that of those truly, most of all other, Which for a certain time have remained In the house and prison of a schoolmaster.
FATHER. I dare well say that there is no misery, But rather joy, pastime and pleasure Always with scholars keeping company: No life to this, I thee well a.s.sure.
SON. It is not true, father, which you do say; The contrary thereof is proved alway, For as the bruit goeth by many a one, Their tender bodies both night and day Are whipped and scourged, and beat[301] like a stone, That from top to toe the skin is away.
FATHER. Is there not (say they) for them in this case Given other while for pardon some place?
SON. None, truly, none; but that alas, alas, Diseases among them do grow apace; For out of their back and side doth flow Of very gore-blood marvellous abundance; And yet for all that is not suffered to go, Till death be almost seen in their countenance.
Should I be content thither then to run, Where the blood from my breech thus should spun,[302]
So long as my wits shall be mine own, The schoolhouse for me shall stand alone.[303]
FATHER. But I am sure that this kind of fas.h.i.+on Is not showed to children of honest condition.
SON. Of truth, with these masters is no difference, For alike towards all is their wrath and violence.
FATHER. Son, in this point thou art quite deceived, And without doubt falsely persuaded, For it is not to be judged that any schoolmaster Is of so great fierceness and cruelty, And of young infants so sore a tormentor, That the breath should be about to leave the body.
SON. Father, this thing I could not have believed, But of late days I did behold An honest man's son hereby buried, Which through many stripes was dead and cold.
FATHER. Peraventure, the child of some disease did labour, Which was the cause of his sepulture.[304]
SON. With no disease, surely, was he disquieted, As unto me it was then reported.
FATHER. If that with no such thing he were infected, What was the cause that he departed?
SON. Men say that of[305] this man, his b.l.o.o.d.y master, Who like a lion most commonly frowned, Being hanged up by the heels together, Was belly and b.u.t.tocks grievously whipped; And last of all (which to speak I tremble),[306]
That his head to the wall he had often crushed.[307]
FATHER. Thus to think, son, thou art beguiled verily, And I would wish thee to suppose the contrary, And not for such tales my counsel to forsake, Which only do covet thee learned to make.
SON. If Demosthenes and Tully were present truly, They could not print[308] it within my head [more] deeply.
FATHER. Yet, by thy father's will and intercession, Thou shalt be content that thing to pardon.