“But how could they so?”
“Miscontent hath no ‘can’ in his hornbook. Not what thou canst, but what he would, is his measure of justice.”
“But justice is justice,” said I—“not what any man would, but what is fair and even.”
“Veriliest. But what is fair and even? If thou stand on Will’s haw (hillock), the oak on thy right hand is the largest tree; if thou stand on Dick’s, it shall be the beech on thy left. And thine ell-wand reacheth not. How then to measure?”
“But I would be on neither side,” said I, “but right in the midst: so should I see even.”
“Right in the midst, good wife, is where God standeth; and few men win there. There be few matters whereof man can see both to the top and to the bottom. Mostly, if man see the one end, then he seeth not the other. And that which man seeth not, how shall he measure? Without thou lay out to follow the judge which said that he would clearly man should leave to harry him with both sides of a matter. So long as he heard but the plaintiff, he could tell full well where the right lay; but after came the defendant, and put him all out, that he wist not on which side to give judgment. Maybe Judge Sissot should sit on the bench alongside of him.”
“Now, Jack,” said I, “thou laughest at me.”
“Good discipline for thee, sweetheart,” saith he, “and of lesser severity than faulting thee. But supposing the world lay in thine hands to set right, and even that thou hadst the power thereto, how long time dost think thy work should abide?”
“Ha, chétife!” cried I. “I ne’er bethought me of that.”
“The world was set right once,” quoth Jack, “by means of cold water, and well washed clean therein. But it tarried not long, as thou wist. Sin was not washed away; and Satan was not drowned in the Flood: and very soon thereafter were they both a-work again. Only one stream can wash the world to last, and that floweth right from the rood on Calvary.”