Should I be content thither then to run,
Where the blood from my breech thus should spun,[302]
So long as my wits shall be mine own,
The schoolhouse for me shall stand alone.[303]
FATHER. But I am sure that this kind of fashion
Is not showed to children of honest condition.
SON. Of truth, with these masters is no difference,
For alike towards all is their wrath and violence.
FATHER. Son, in this point thou art quite deceived,
And without doubt falsely persuaded,
For it is not to be judged that any schoolmaster
Is of so great fierceness and cruelty,
And of young infants so sore a tormentor,
That the breath should be about to leave the body.
SON. Father, this thing I could not have believed,
But of late days I did behold
An honest man's son hereby buried,
Which through many stripes was dead and cold.
FATHER. Peraventure, the child of some disease did labour,
Which was the cause of his sepulture.[304]
SON. With no disease, surely, was he disquieted,
As unto me it was then reported.
FATHER. If that with no such thing he were infected,
What was the cause that he departed?
SON. Men say that of[305] this man, his bloody master,
Who like a lion most commonly frowned,
Being hanged up by the heels together,
Was belly and buttocks grievously whipped;
And last of all (which to speak I tremble),[306]
That his head to the wall he had often crushed.[307]
FATHER. Thus to think, son, thou art beguiled verily,
And I would wish thee to suppose the contrary,
And not for such tales my counsel to forsake,
Which only do covet thee learned to make.
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