so that at last he became presumptuous, and went about to
bring to his lure one of the greatest ladies in the city. And, indeed,
leaving a rabble of long prologues and protestations, which ordinarily
these dolent contemplative lent-lovers make who never meddle with the
flesh, one day he said unto her, Madam, it would be a very great benefit to
the commonwealth, delightful to you, honourable to your progeny, and
necessary for me, that I cover you for the propagating of my race, and
believe it, for experience will teach it you. The lady at this word thrust
him back above a hundred leagues, saying, You mischievous fool, is it for
you to talk thus unto me? Whom do you think you have in hand? Begone,
never to come in my sight again; for, if one thing were not, I would have
your legs and arms cut off. Well, said he, that were all one to me, to
want both legs and arms, provided you and I had but one merry bout together
at the brangle-buttock game; for herewithin is--in showing her his long
codpiece--Master John Thursday, who will play you such an antic that you
shall feel the sweetness thereof even to the very marrow of your bones. He
is a gallant, and doth so well know how to find out all the corners,
creeks, and ingrained inmates in your carnal trap, that after him there
needs no broom, he'll sweep so well before, and leave nothing to his
followers to work upon. Whereunto the lady answered, Go, villain, go. If
you speak to me one such word more, I will cry out and make you to be
knocked down with blows. Ha, said he, you are not so bad as you say--no,
or else I am deceived in your physiognomy. For sooner shall the earth
mount up unto the heavens, and the highest heavens descend unto the hells,
and all the course of nature be quite perverted, than that in so great
beauty and neatness as in you is there should be one drop of gall or
malice. They say, indeed, that hardly shall a man ever see a fair woman
that is not also stubborn. Yet that is spoke only of those vulgar
beauties; but yours is so excellent, so singular, and so heavenly, that I
believe nature hath given it you as a paragon and masterpiece of her art,
to make us know what she can do when she will employ all her skill and all
her power. There is nothing in you but honey, but sugar, but a sweet and
celestial manna. To you it was to whom Paris ought to have adjudged the
golden apple, not to Venus, no, nor to Juno, nor to Minerva, for never was
there so much