Well! enough said of widows which go fasting. ’Tis time now to speak of another sort, to wit those which detesting all vows and abnegations against second marriages, do wed again and once more claim the aid of the gentle and agreeable God Hymen. Of such there be some which, over fond of their admirers during their husband’s life, be already dreaming of another match before these be well dead, planning aforehand betwixt them and their lovers the sort of life they will lead together: “Ah, me! an if mine husband were but dead,” they say, “we would do this, we would do that; we would live after this pleasant fashion, we would arrange it after that,—and all so discreetly none should ever suspect our bygone loves. A right merry life we would have of it then; we would go to Paris, to Court, and bear us so wisely naught should ever do us hurt. You would pay court to such and such a great lady, I to such and such a great nobleman; we would get this from the King, and that. We would get our children provided with tutors and guardians, and have never a care for their property and governance. Rather would we be making our fortunes, or else enjoying theirs, pending their coming of age. We would have plenishing enough, with that of mine husband to boot; the last for sure we could not lack, for I wot well where be the title deeds and good crown pieces. In a word, who so happy as we should be?”—and so on and so on. Such the fine words and pleasant plans these wives do indulge in to their lovers by anticipation. Some of them do only kill their husbands in wishes, words, hopes and longings; but others there be that do actually haste them on the way to the tomb, if they be over laggard. Cases of this sort have been, and are yet to-day, more plenty before our Courts of Law and Parliaments than any would suppose. But verily ’tis better and more agreeable they do not as did a certain Spanish dame. For being ill treated of her husband, she did kill him, and afterward herself, having first writ this epitaph following, which she left on the table in her closet, indited in her own hand: Aqui yaze qui a buscado una muger, Y con ella casado, no l’ha podido hazer muger, A las otras, no a mi, cerca mi, dava contentamiento, Y pore este, y su flaqueza y atrevimiento, Yo lo he matado, Por le dar pena de su pecado: Ya my tan bien, por falta de my juyzio, Y por dar fin à la mal-adventura qu’yo aviô. (Here lieth one which did seek a wife, yet could not satisfy a wife; to other women, but not me, though near me, he would give contentment. And for this, and for his cowardice and insolence, I have killed him, to punish him for his sins. Myself likewise I have done to death, for lack of understanding, and to make an end of the unhappy life I had.)