DALILAH. Not I, by the mass, I had rather he hanged were,
Than I would sit quaking like a mome for fear.
I am sun-burned in summer, in winter the cold
Maketh my limbs gross, and my beauty decay;
If I should use it, as they would I should,
I should never be fair woman, I dare say.
ISMAEL. No, sister, no, but I can tell,
Where we shall have good cheer,
Lusty companions two or three,
At good wine, ale, and beer.
DALILAH. O good brother, let us go,
I will never go more to-to[218] school.
Shall I never know,
What pastime meaneth?
Yes, I will not be such a fool.
ISMAEL. Have with thee, Dalilah:
Farewell our school!
Away with books and all,
[They cast away their books.
I will set my heart
On a merry pin,
Whatever shall befall.
EULALIA. Lord, what folly is in youth!
How unhappy be children now-a-days?
And the more pity, to say the truth,
Their parents maintain them in evil ways:
Which is a great cause that the world decays,
For children, brought up in idleness and play,
Unthrifty and disobedient continue alway.
A neighbour of mine hath children hereby,
Idle, disobedient, proud, wanton, and nice.
As they come by, they do shrewd turns daily;
Their parents so to suffer them surely be not wise.
They laugh me to scorn, when I tell them mine advice;
I will speak with their elders and warn them neighbourly:
Never in better time, their mother is hereby.
[Enter Xantippe.
God save you, gossip, I am very fain,
That you chance now to come this way;
I long to talk with you a word or twain,
I pray you take it friendly that I shall say:
Ismael your son and your daughter Dalilah
Do me shrewd turns daily more and more,
Chide and beat my children, it grieveth me sore.
They swear, curse, and scold, as they go by the way,
Giving other ill ensample to do the same,
To God's displeasure and their hurt another day,
Chastise them for it, or else ye be to blame.
XANTIPPE. Tush, tush, if ye have no more than that to say,
Ye may hold your tongue and get ye away,
Alas, poor souls, they sit a-school all day
In fear of a churl; and if a little they play,
He beateth them like a devil; when they come home,
Your mistress-ship would have me lay on.
If I should beat them, so oft as men complain,
By the mass, within this month I should make them lame.
EULALIA. Be not offended, I pray you, I must say more,
Your son is suspect light-fingered to be:
Your daughter hath nice tricks three or four;
See to it in time, lest worse ye do see;
He that spareth the rod, hateth the child truly.
Yet Salomon sober correction doth mean,
Not to beat and bounce them, to make them lame.