Alas! how oft have we seen honourable ladies which, having been surprised at these tricks, and thereupon chid and beaten, yea! and admonished by every prayer and remonstrance not to return to the like course, do promise, protest and swear they will behave them chastely, yet do presently illustrate the proverb, _passato il periglio, gabbato il santo_ (the danger past, the Saint is mocked), and return again with all the more zest to the game of love. Nay! many have we seen, which themselves feeling some worm of remorse gnawing their soul, have of their proper act made holy and right solemn vows of reformation, yet have never kept them, but presently have repented of their repentance, as M. du Bellay doth say of penitent courtesans:[70] Mère d’amour, suivant mes premiers vœux, Dessous tes lois remettre je me veux, Dont je voudrois n’estre jamais sortie; Et me repens de m’estre repentie. (Mother of love, returning to my earlier vows, I am fain to put me again beneath thy laws, which I would I had never deserted; lo! I repent me of my penitence.) Such women declare ’tis exceeding hard to give up forever so sweet a habit and fond custom, seeing their time is so short in this brief sojourn they make in this world. To confirm what I here say I would readily appeal to many a fair maid, which hath repented in youth and taken the veil and become a nun. If such were asked on her faith and conscience what she did really desire, many a time, I know, she would say, “Ah! would the high convent walls were broken down, that I might straight be free again!” Wherefore husbands need never think to reduce their wives to order again, after once these have made the first breach in their honour, or that they can aught else but only give them the rein, merely recommending discretion and all possible avoidance of scandal. For truly we may apply all the remedies of love which ever Ovid taught, and an host of other subtle remedies that others have invented, yea! and those puissant ones of François Rabelais,[70] which he did teach to the venerable Panurge, yet will none of them all avail. But ’twere best of all to follow the advice given in the refrain of an old song of King Francis’ time, which saith, Qui voudroit garder qu’une femme N’aille du tout à l’abandon, Il faudroit la fermer dans une pipe, Et en jouir par le bondon. (If a man would make sure of his wife never going to the bad at all, he had best shut her up in a cask, and enjoy her through the bung-hole.)