Volume Ii Part 52 (1/2)

HUSBAND. If they do not, it may be a shame, For I love you heartily, I you a.s.sure: Or else I were truly greatly to blame, Ye are so loving, so kind and demure.

WIFE. I trust that with neither hand or foot Ye shall see any occasion by me: But that I love you even from the heart-root, And during my life so intend to be.

HUSBAND. Who then merry marriage can discommend, And will not with Aristotle in his Ethics[346] agree?

But will say, that misery is the end, When otherwise I find it to be: A politic man will marry a wife, As the philosopher makes declaration, Not only to have children by his life, But also for living, help, and sustentation.

WIFE. Who will not with H'erocles plainly confess, That mankind to society is wholly adjoining, And in this society nevertheless Of worthy wedlock took the beginning: Without the which no city can stand, Nor household be perfect in any land?

HUSBAND. Pythagoras, Socrates, and Crates also, Which truly were men of very small substance, As I heard my father tell long ago, Did take them wives with a safe conscience; And dwelled together, supposing that they Were unto philosophy nother stop nor stay.

WIFE. Yea, what can be more according to kind, Than a man to a woman himself to bind?

HUSBAND. Away with those therefore, that marriage despise, And of dangers thereof invent many lies!

WIFE. But what is he that cometh yonder?

Do ye not think it is our man?

Somewhat there is that he hasteth hither, For he makes as much speed as he can.

[_Here the servant of the Rich Man's Son cometh in, with an errand to his master_.

SERVANT.

Master, there is a stranger at home, He would very fain with you talk: For until that to him ye do come, Forth of the doors he will not walk.

HUSBAND. Come on then, my wife, if it be so, Let us depart hence for a season: For I am not well, till I do know Of that man's coming the very reason.

[_Here they both go out, and their Servant doth tarry behind alone_.

SERVANT.

Let them go both, and do what they will, And with communication fill their belly: For I, by Saint George, will tarry here still, In all my life I was never so weary!

I have this day filled so many pots With all manner wine, ale, and beer, That I wished their bellies full of bots,[347]

Long of whom[348] was made such cheer.

What kinds of meat, both flesh and fish, Have I, poor knave, to the table carried From time to time, dish after dish; My legs from going never ceased!

What running had I for apples and nuts!

What calling for biscuits, comfits, and caraways![349]

A vengeance, said I, light on their guts, That makes me to turn so many ways!

What crying was there for cards and dice!

What roisting,[350] what ruffling made they within!

I counted them all not greatly wise, For my head did almost ache with din.

What babbling, what jangling[351] was in the house!

What quaffing, what bibbing with many a cup!

That some lay along as drunk as a mouse, Not able so much as their heads to hold up!

What dancing, what leaping, what jumping about, From bench to bench, and stool to stool, That I wondered their brains did not fall out, When they so outrageously played the fool!

What juggling was there upon the boards!

What thrusting of knives through many a nose!

What bearing of forms, what holding of swords, And putting of botkins[352] through leg and hose!

Yet for all that they called for drink, And said they could not play for dry, That many at me did nod and wink, Because I should bring it by and by.