SON. It is well known how that ye have loved Me heretofore at all times most tenderly; But now (me-think) ye have plainly showed Certain tokens of hatred; For if I should go to my book after your advice, Which have spent my childhood so pleasantly, I may then seem driven out of paradise, To take pain and woe, grief and misery. All things I had rather sustain and abide, The business of the school once cast aside; Therefore, though ye cry, till ye reve[299] asunder, I will not meddle with such a matter. FATHER. Why, cannot I thee thus much persuade? For that in my mind is the best trade. SON. When all is said and all is done, Concerning all things, both more and less, Yet like to the school none under the sun Bringeth to children so much heaviness. FATHER. What, though it be painful, what, though it be grievous, For so be all things at the first learning, Yet marvellous pleasure it bringeth unto us, As a reward for such painstaking. Wherefore come off, and be of good cheer, And go to thy book without any fear, For a man without knowledge (as I have read) May well be compared to one that is dead. SON. No more of the school; no more of the book; That woful work is not for my purpose, For upon those books I may not look: If so I did, my labour I should lose. FATHER. Why then to me thy fancy [doth] express, That the school matters to thee are counted weariness. SON. Even as to a great man, wealthy and rich, Service and bondage is a hard thing, So to a boy, both dainty and nice,[300] Learning and study is greatly displeasing. FATHER. What, my child, displeasing, I pray thee, That maketh a man live so happily? SON. Yea, by my troth, such kind of wisdom Is to my heart, I tell you, very loathsome. FATHER. What trial thereof hast thou taken, That the school of thee is so ill bespoken? SON. What trial thereof would ye fain know? Nothing more easy than this to show: At other boys' hands I have it learned, And that of those truly, most of all other, Which for a certain time have remained In the house and prison of a schoolmaster. FATHER. I dare well say that there is no misery, But rather joy, pastime and pleasure Always with scholars keeping company: No life to this, I thee well assure. SON. It is not true, father, which you do say; The contrary thereof is proved alway, For as the bruit goeth by many a one, Their tender bodies both night and day Are whipped and scourged, and beat[301] like a stone, That from top to toe the skin is away. FATHER. Is there not (say they) for them in this case Given other while for pardon some place?