[267] Conjured.
+ _Of the ryche man that wolde not haue a glyster._ lxxxi.
+ There was a certayn riche man on a tyme, whiche felle sycke, to the
whose curynge came many phisitians (for flyes by heapes flee to honye).
Amonge them all there was one that sayde, that he muste nedes take a
glyster, if he wolde be holle. Whan the sicke man, that was nat envred
with that medicine, harde hym saye so, he sayde in a great furye: out a
dores with those phisitians! they be madde: for, where as my payne is in
my heed, they wolde heale me in myne * * * *.
This fable sheweth that holsom thynges to them, that lacke knowlege and
experyence, seme hurtfull.
+ _Of hym that feyned hym selfe deed to proue what his wyfe wolde do._
lxxxii.
+ A yonge married man on a time, to proue, to here and to se what his
wyfe wolde do, if he were deed, came in to his house, whyle his wyfe was
forthe wasshynge of clothes, and layd him downe in the floore, as he had
ben deed. Whan his wyfe came in, and sawe him lye so, she thought he had
ben deed in dede; wherfore she stode euen stylle, and deuysed with her
selfe whether was better to bewayle his dethe forth with, or els to dyne
fyrste; for she had eate of nomeate[268] all the day. All other thinges
consydered, she determined to dyne fyrste. So she cut a coloppe of
baken, and broyled it on the coles, and began to eate theron a pace; she
was so hungrye, that she toke no hede of drynke. At laste, the saltenes
of the meate made her to thyrste so sore, that she muste nedes drynke.
So, as she toke the potte in her hande, and was goyng downe into her
seller to drawe drynke, sodaynely came one of her neyghbours for a cole
o' fyre.[269] Wherfore she stepped backe quickely, and though she was
right thyrsty, yet she sette the potte a syde; and as [if] her husbande
had than fallen downe deed, she beganne to wepe, and with many
lamentable wordes to bewayle his dethe; which wepynge and walyng and
sodaine dethe of her husbande caused all the neyghbours to come thyther.
The man laye stylle in the floore, and so helde his brethe, and closed
his eies, that he semed for certayne to be deade. At laste, whanne he
thought he had made pastyme inough, and herynge his wyfe saye thus:
alas! dere husbande, what shall I do nowe? he loked vp and sayde: full
yll, my swete wyfe, excepte ye go quyckely and drynke; wherwith they al
from wepyng tourned to laughynge, specially whan they vnderstode the
matter and the cause of her thyrste.
Wherby ye may se, that nat without a good skyl the poet sayde:
_Ut flerent oculos erudiere suos._