Shaking, falling to the ground,
Mad delirium.
And again:
The setting sun and drunken man
Are both a fiery red;
They sink in naked helplessness;
Their dignity is dead."
When he had taken the scolding and had noticed her change of dress, he said: "Whore! I have heard gossip about you for a long time. Today I have seen the proof. I am going to give you what you deserve." So he beat her limp with a club, tied her firmly to a post, and fell into a drunken slumber.
At this juncture her friend, the barber's wife, learning that the weaver was asleep, came in and said: "My dear, he is waiting for you over there—you know who. Go at once." But the weaver's wife replied: "Just see what a fix I am in. How can I go? You must return and tell my adorer that I cannot possibly meet him there at this moment."
"My dear," said the barber's wife, "do not say things like that. For a wench of spirit this is no way to behave. As the saying goes:
Those who earn the name of blessèd
Show a camel-like persistence
When they pluck the fruit of pleasure,
Counting neither toil nor distance.
And again:
As the other world is doubtful
And as scandal misses truth,
