THE SONG.
_Spite of his spite, which that in vain Doth seek to force my fantasy, I am professed for loss or gain, To be thine own assuredly; Wherefore let my father spite[334] and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
Although my father of busy wit Doth babble still, I care not tho; I have no fear, nor yet will flit, As doth the water to and fro; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
For I am set and will not swerve, Whom spiteful speech removeth nought; And since that I thy grace deserve, I count it is not dearly bought; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
Who is afraid, let you him fly, For I shall well abide the brunt; Maugre to his lips that listeth to lie, Of busy brains as is the wont; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
Who listeth thereat to laugh or lour,[335]
I am not he that ought doth rech;[336]
There is no pain that hath the power Out of my breast your love to fetch; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
For whereas he moved me to the school, And only to follow my book and learning: He could never make me such a fool, With all his soft words and fair speaking; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
This minion here, this mincing[337] trull,[338]
Doth please me more a thousandfold, Than all the earth that is so full Of precious stones, silver and gold; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
Whatsoever I did it was for her sake, It was for her love and only pleasure; I count it no labour such labour to take, In getting to me so high a treasure; Wherefore, let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!
This day I intended for to be merry, Although my hard father be far hence, I know no cause for to be heavy, For all this cost and great expense; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!_
YOUNG MAN. How like ye this song, my own sweet rose?
Is it well made for our purpose?
YOUNG WOMAN. I never heard in all my life a better, More pleasant, more meet for the matter; Now let us go then, the morning is nigh gone, We cannot any longer here remain: Farewell, good masters every one, Till from the church we come again.
[_Here they go out, and in cometh the Priest alone_.
PRIEST. Sirs, by my troth it is a world to see[339]
The exceeding negligence of every one, Even from the highest to the lowest degree Both goodness and conscience is clean gone.
There is a young gentleman in this town, Who this same day now must be married: Yet though I would bestow a crown, That knave the clerk cannot be spied; For he is safe, if that in the alehouse He may sit tippling of nut-brown ale, That oft he comes forth as drunk as a mouse, With a nose of his own not greatly pale; And this is not once, but every day Almost, of my faith, throughout the whole year, That he these tricks doth use to play, Without all shame, dread and fear.
He knoweth himself, that yesternight The said young gentleman came to me, And then desired that he might This morning betimes married be; But now I doubt it will be high noon, Ere that his business be quite ended, Unless the knavish fool come very soon, That this same thing may be despatched; And therefore, since that this naughty pack Hath at this present me thus served, He is like henceforward my good-will to lack, Or else unwise I might be judged.
I am taught hereafter how such a one to trust In any matter concerning the church; For, if I should, I perceive that I must Of mine own honesty lose very much.
And yet for all this, from week to week, For his stipend and wages he ever[340] crieth, And for the same continually doth seek, As from time to time plainly appeareth; But whether his wages he hath deserved, Unto you all I do me report, Since that his duty he hath not fulfilled, Nor to the church will scant resort; That many a time and oft[341] I am fain To play the priest, clerk, and all, Though thus to do it is great pain, And my reward but very small.
Wherefore (God willing) I will such order take, Before that I be many days elder, That he shall be glad this town to forsake, And learn evermore to please his better, And in such wise all they shall be used, Which in this parish intend to be clerks; Great pity it were the church should be disordered, Because that such swillbowls[342] do not their works.
And to say truth, in many a place, And other great towns beside this same, The priests and parishioners be in the like case, Which to the churchwardens may be a shame.
How should the priest his office fulfil, Accordingly as indeed he ought, When that the clerk will have a self-will, And always in service-time must be sought?
Notwithstanding at this present there is no remedy, But to take time, as it doth fall, Wherefore I will go hence and make me ready, For it helpeth not to chafe or brawl.
[_Here the Priest goeth out, and in cometh the Rich Man_.
THE RICH MAN.
Coming this day forth of my chamber, Even as for water to wash I did call, By chance I espied a certain stranger, Standing beneath within my hall; Who in very deed came from the innholder, Whereas for a time my son did lie, And said that his master had sent me a letter, And bad him to bring it with all speed possible; Wherein he did write that as this day That unthrift,[343] my son, to a certain maid Should then be wedded without further delay, And hath borrowed more than will be paid; And since that he heard he was my son By a gentleman or two this other day, He thought that it should be very well done To let me have knowledge thereof by the way; And willed me, if that I would any thing Of him to be done of me in this matter, That then he his servant such word should bring, As at his coming he might do hereafter: I bad him thank his master most heartily, And sent him by him a piece of venison, For that he vouchsafed to write so gently, Touching the marrying and state of my son; But notwithstanding I sent him no money To pay such debts as my son did owe, Because he had me forsaken utterly, And me for his good father would not know; And said that with him I would not make From that day forward during my life, But as he had brewed, that so he should bake, Since of his own choosing he gat him a wife.
Thus, when his servant from me departed, Into my chamber I went again, And there a great while I bitterly weeped: This news to me was so great pain.
And thus with these words I began to moan, Lamenting and mourning myself all alone: O madness, O doting of those young folk!
O minds without wit, advice and discretion, With whom their parents can bear no stroke In their first matrimonial conjunction: They know not what misery, grief and unquietness Will hereafter ensue of their extreme foolishness; Of all such labours they be clean ignorant, Which, in the nourishing and keeping of children, To their great charges it is convenient Either of them henceforth to sustain: Concerning expenses bestowed in a house, They perceive as little as doth the mouse.
On the one side the wife will brawl and scold, On the other side the infant will cry in the cradle: Anon, when the child waxeth somewhat old, For meat and drink he begins to babble: Hereupon cometh it that at markets and fairs A husband is forced to buy many wares.
Yet for all this hath my foolish son, As wise [as] a woodcock,[344] without any wit, Despising his father's mind and opinion, Married a wife for him most unfit, Supposing that mirth to be everlasting, Which then at the first was greatly pleasing.
How they two will live, I cannot tell; Whereto they may trust, they have nothing.
My mind giveth me, that they will come dwell At length by their father for want of living; But my son doubtless, for anything that I know, Shall reap in such wise as he did sow; True he shall find, that Hipponax did write, Who said with a wife are two days of pleasure; The first is the joy of the marriage-day and night, The second to be at the wife's sepulture: And this by experience he shall prove true, That of his bridal great evils do ensue.
And (as I suppose) it will prove in his life, When he shall wish that to him it may chance, Which unto Eupolis and also his wife, The night they were wedded, fell for a vengeance; Who with the heavy ruin of the bed were slain, As the Poet Ovid in these two verses make plain:
_Sit tibi conjugii nox prima novissimi vitae, Eupolis hoc periit et nova nupta modo_.
Ovidius, writing against one Ibis his enemy, That the first night of his marriage did wish The last of his life might be certainly, For so (quoth he) did Eupolis and his wife perish.
Yet to my son I pray God to send, Because thereunto me nature doth bind, Though he hath offended, a better end Than Eupolis and his wife did find.
And now I shall long ever anon, Till some of those quarters come riding hither, Unto the which my son is gone, To know how they do live together.
But I am fasting, and it is almost noon, And more than time that I had dined: Wherefore from hence I will go soon; I think by this time my meat is burned.
[_Here the Rich Man goeth out, and in cometh the Young Man his son with the Young Woman, being both married_.
THE HUSBAND.
O my sweet wife, my pretty coney!
THE WIFE.
O my husband, as pleasant as honey.
HUSBAND. O Lord, what pleasures and great commodity Are heaped together in matrimony!
WIFE. How vehement, how strong a thing love is!
How many smirks and dulsome[345] kisses!
HUSBAND. What smiling, what laughing!
What sport, pastime, and playing!
WIFE. What tickling, what toying!
What dallying, what joying!
HUSBAND. The man with the wife is wholly delighted, And with many causes to laughter enforced.
WIFE. When they two drink, they drink together; They never eat but one with another.
HUSBAND. Sometimes to their garden forth they walk, And into the fields sometimes they go, With merry tricks and gestures they talk, As they do move their feet to and fro.
WIFE. Sometimes they ride into the country, Passing the time with mirth and sport; And when with their friends they have been merry, Home to their own house they do resort.
HUSBAND. Sometimes abroad they go to see plays, And other trim sights for to behold: When often they meet in the highways Much of their acquaintance they knew of old.
WIFE. Sometimes to the church they do repair, To hear the sermon that shall be made, Though it to remember they shall have small care; For why they be now but few of that trade.
HUSBAND. Sometimes at home at cards they play, Sometimes at this game, sometimes at that; They need not with sadness to pass the day, Nor yet to sit still, or stand in one plat.
WIFE. And as for us wives, occasions do move Sometimes with our gossips to make good cheer, Or else we did not, as did us behove, For certain days and weeks in the year.
HUSBAND. I think that a man might spend a whole day, Declaring the joys and endless bliss, Which married persons receive alway, If they love faithfully, as meet it is.
WIFE. Wives cannot choose but love earnestly, If that their husbands do all things well; Or else, my sweetheart, we shall espy, That in quietness they cannot dwell.