‘’Twas in the sound of _Clerkenwell_ bells, and therefore of long standing, that a Plaisterer had gotten a most damnable Scold to his wife, who used to fetch him from the Ale-house. One night, coming home three-quarters drunk, she acted the part of _Zantippe_, and made the house to Ring with her scolding. This music was so untunable in her Husband’s Ears, that, getting a cudgel in his hands, he fell to belabouring her until he made her to ask him for forgiveness, and promise never to scold so again. Having thus, as he thought, got an absolute conquest over her tongue, he went quietly to bed, where he slept soundly, whilst she lay awake studying of mischief. In the morning, before he awaked, she examined his pockets for money (the common tricks of a good many women), but found nothing in them, save only some lath nails; these did she take and set upright all about the room, which done, she gets a Pail of Water in her hands, and, calling aloud, commanded him to rise, which he refused to do; whereupon she throws the pail of water upon the bed. This so vexed him that, starting suddenly up, he went to run after her; when his naked feet lighting upon the lath nails, he was forced to slacken his pursuit, being so mortified with them that he could neither stand nor walk. Whereupon his wife, taking the same cudgel he had beaten her withall the night before, told him that _what was sauce for a Goose was sauce for a Gander_, and so be-rib-roasted him, that with great penitency he now asked her forgiveness, resigning the whole right and title of the Breeches unto her, and that though he was superior to her in strength, yet he was inferior to her in policy.’ ‘_When as that women do themselves apply_ _To mischief, they perform it readily._ _Nothing will serve them when their fingers itches_ _Until such time they have attained the breeches._ _Be it to scold, to brangle, scratch, or fight,_ _Their hands are heavy though their tails are light._