HUSBAND. To trouble me now, and make me vexed, This mischievous means hast thou invented. WIFE. What trouble for thee, what kind of vexation, Have I to disquiet thee caused at this present? My only mind is thou make expedition To seek for our profit, as is convenient.[357] Wherefore to thee I say once again, Because to take pains thou art so loth, By Christ, it were best with might and main To fall to some work, I swear a great oath! HUSBAND. Yet, for a time, if it may thee please, Let me be quiet, and take mine ease. WIFE. Wilt thou have us then through hunger be starved? HUSBAND. I would not we should for hunger be killed. WIFE. Then, I say then, this gear[358] go about, And look that thou labour diligently, Or else thou shalt shortly prove without doubt, Thy sluggishness will not please me greatly. HUSBAND. Beginnest thou even now to be painful and grievous, And to thy husband a woman so troublous? WIFE. What words have we here, thou misbegotten: Is there not already enough to be spoken? HUSBAND. O mirth, O joy, O pastime and pleasure, How little a space do you endure! 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.