WIFE. I see my commandment can take no place;
Thou shalt aby therefore, I swear by the mass!
[Here the Wife must strike her Husband handsomely
about the shoulders with something.
HUSBAND. Alas, good wife! good wife, alas, alas!
Strike not so hard, I pray thee heartily!
Whatsoever thou wilt have brought to pass,
It shall be done with all speed possible.
WIFE. Lay these faggots, man, upon thy shoulder,
And carry this wood from street to street,
To sell the same, that we both together
Our living may get, as is most meet.
Hence, nidiot, hence without more delay!
What meanest thou thus to stagger and stay?
HUSBAND. O Lord! what, how miserable men be those,
Which to their wives as wretches be wedded,
And have them continually their mortal foes,
Serving them thus, as slaves that be hired!
Now by experience true I do find,
Which oftentimes unto me heretofore
My father did say, declaring his mind,
That in matrimony was pain evermore;
What shall I do, most pitiful creature?
Just cause I have, alas, to lament:
That frantic woman my death will procure,
If so be this day without gain be spent:
For unless for my wood some money be taken,
Like a dog with a cudgel I shall be beaten!
Ho, thou good fellow, which standest so nigh,
Of these heavy bundles ease my sore back,
And somewhat therefore give me by and by,
Or else I die, for silver I do lack.
Now that I have some money received
For this my burthen, home I will go,
And lest that my wife be discontented,
What I have take, I will her show.
Wife, I am come: I went a long way,
And here is the profit and gains of this day!
WIFE. Why, thou lout, thou fool, thou whoreson folt,[359]
Is this thy wood money, thou peevish[360] dolt?
Thou shalt smart for this gear, I make God a vow!
Thou knowest no more to sell wood than doth the sow!
HUSBAND. By God's precious, I will not unwisely suffer
To do as I have done any longer.
WIFE. Why, dost thou rise against me, villain?
Take heed I scratch not out thy eyes twain!
HUSBAND. Scratch, and thou dare, for I have a knife:
Perchance I will rid thee of thy life!
WIFE. Slay me with thy knife, thou shitten dastard!
Dost thou think to find me such a dissard?
By Cock's bones, I will make thy skin to rattle,
And the brains in thy skull more deeply to settle.