And Pathelin responds that he cannot get their clothing out of pawn without redeeming or stealing it—both things out of the question, as he has no money and will not commit a crime. It is then that the worthy couple hit on the credit system to renew their wardrobe. It is for this purpose he goes to a draper’s to purchase cloth to make new clothes. On entering the shop he uses the salutation of the period, “God be with you,” and politely inquires after the shopkeeper’s health, which to him is very dear. Then he asks after his father’s health, telling him he resembles his sire like an old picture. Finally, he takes sixteen yards of fine cloth, and, telling the draper to call at his house in the evening for his money and to eat, as Master Pathelin expresses it, “a Rouen goose roasted,” having invited the astonished tradesman to dine with him, the lawyer walks out with the cloth without paying. Arriving home he relates his adventure to the delighted Guillemette, who is overpowered with bewilderment, however, when she learns that the draper is invited to a roast goose supper. At first it is suggested that they borrow a tailor’s goose, but fear that the draper will not appreciate the joke and demand his money legally induces the worthy couple to adopt a strategem. It is very simple: Master Pathelin is to feign insanity, or rather that maniacal form of excitation so frequently employed even at the present day by those who seek to avoid the consequences of crimes—an excitation principally characterized by uncontrollable loquacity, mobility of ideas, incoherence, and pretended illusions. These scenes of simulation are extremely curious and interesting. As soon as the draper enters the wife warns him not to make a noise in the house: “He’s lying in bed. Don’t speak! Poor martyr! he’s been sick a week. But the draper refuses to accept the explanation. It cannot be a week, he says, for “’Tis only this afternoon, you see, Your husband bought cloth from me.” Then the voice of the attorney is heard in the next room shouting to his wife: “Guillemette? Un peu d’eue rose! Haussez moy, serrez-moy derriere! Trut! a qui parlay. Je? L’esguiere? A boire? Frottez moy la plante.” Rose water in that century was employed to reanimate the strength of sick people. Among apothecaries it was called _aqua cordialis temperata_. Rose water was prescribed in the following cases: “_In mortis subitis et malignis, ubicunque magnus est virium lapsus præscribitur; quemadmodum etiam prodest a morbo convalescentibus, ad vires instaurandas._”