There is not among them all one curmudgeon or make-bate or
meddler or spoil-sport; each has his own dance that he dances
and his own couplets that he repeats, and the best of them is
that they are like thy servant, knowing not abundance of talk
nor meddlesomeness. The bath-keeper sings enchantingly to the
tambourine and dances and says, "I am going, O my mother, to fill
my jar!" As for the corn-chandler, he brings more skill to it
than any of them; he dances and says, "O mourner, my mistress,
thou dost not fall short!" and draws the very heart out of one
for laughing at him. Whilst the scavenger sings, so that the
birds stop to listen to him, and dances and says, "News with my
wife is not kept in a chest!" And indeed he is a witty,
accomplished rogue, and of his excellence I use to say the
following:
My life redeem the scavenger! I love him passing dear, For, in
his goodly gait, he's like the zephyr-shaken bough.
Fate blessed my eyes with him one night; and I to him did say,
(Whilst in my bosom, as I spoke, desire did ebb and flow,)
"Thou'st lit thy fire within my heart!" Whereto he answer made
"What wonder though the scavenger have turned a
fire-man[FN#97] now?"
And indeed each is perfection in all that can charm the wit with
mirth and jollity. But hearing is not like seeing; and indeed if
thou wilt join us and put off going to thy friends, it will be
better both for us and for thee: for the traces of sickness are
yet upon thee and belike thou art going amongst talkative folk,
who will prate of what does not concern them, or there may be
amongst them some impertinent busybody who will split thy head,
and thou still weak from illness.
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