situate under heaven's eye
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subjects and at their controls:
Men, more divine, the masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more preeminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.
This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
How if your husband start some other where?
Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Patience unmoved! no marvel though she pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more would we ourselves complain:
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me,
But, if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Well, I will marry one day, but to try.
Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh.
Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears
can witness.
Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear:
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his
blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce
understand them.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he
hath great care to please his wife.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Horn-mad, thou villain!
I mean not cuckold-mad;
But, sure, he is stark mad.
When I desired him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:
''Tis dinner-time,' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he;
'Your meat doth burn,' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he:
'Will you come home?' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he.
'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?'
'The pig,' quoth I, 'is burn'd;' 'My gold!' quoth he:
'My mistress, sir' quoth I;