Tales eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 328 pages of information about Tales.
And though a wife might not dispute the will
Of her liege lord, she could prevent it still. 
   The morning came, and Clubb prepared to ride
With a smart boy, his servant, and his guide;
When, ere he mounted on his ready steed,
Arrived a letter, and he stopped to read. 
   “My friend,” he read, “our journey I decline,
A heart too tender for such strife is mine;
Yours is the triumph, be you so inclined;
But you are too considerate and kind: 
In tender pity to my Juliet’s fears
I thus relent, o’ercome by love and tears;
She knows your kindness; I have heard her say,
A man like you ’tis pleasure to obey: 
Each faithful wife, like ours, must disapprove
Such dangerous trifling with connubial love;
What has the idle world, my friend, to do
With our affairs? they envy me and you: 
What if I could my gentle spouse command —
Is that a cause I should her tears withstand? 
And what if you, a friend of peace, submit
To one you love—­is that a theme for wit? 
’Twas wrong, and I shall henceforth judge it weak
Both of submission and control to speak: 
Be it agreed that all contention cease,
And no such follies vex our future peace;
Let each keep guard against domestic strife,
And find nor slave nor tyrant in his wife.” 
   “Agreed,” said Clubb, “with all my soul agreed;” —
And to the boy, delighted, gave his steed. 
“I think my friend has well his mind express’d,
And I assent; such things are not a jest.” 
“True,” said the Wife, “no longer he can hide
The truth that pains him by his wounded pride: 
Your friend has found it not an easy thing,
Beneath his yoke this yielding soul to bring: 
These weeping willows, though they seem inclined
By every breeze, yet not the strongest wind
Can from their bent divert this weak but stubborn kind;
Drooping they seek your pity to excite,
But ’tis at once their nature and delight;
Such women feel not; while they sigh and weep,
’Tis but their habit—­their affections sleep;
They are like ice that in the hand we hold,
So very melting, yet so very cold;
On such affection let not man rely,
The husbands suffer, and the ladies sigh: 
But your friend’s offer let us kindly take,
And spare his pride for his vexation’s sake;
For he has found, and through his life will find,
’Tis easiest dealing with the firmest mind —
More just when it resists, and, when it yields, more kind.”



A tapster is a good trade, and an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered serving-man, a fresh tapster. 
Shakespeare, Merry Wives of Windsor.

A fellow, Sir, that I have known go about with troll-my-dames. 
                                              A Winter’s Tale.

I myself, sometimes leaving the fear of Heaven on the left hand,
and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am forced to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch. 
                                         Merry Wives of Windsor.

Project Gutenberg
Tales from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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