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| THE JESTER shook his hood and bells, and leaped upon a chair; | |
| The pages laughed, the women screamed, and tossed their scented hair; | |
| The falcon whistled, staghounds bayed, the lapdog barked without, | |
| The scullion dropped the pitcher brown, the cook railed at the lout; | |
| The steward, counting out his gold, let pouch and money fall,— | 5 |
| And why? because the Jester rose to say grace in the hall! | |
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| The page played with the heron’s plume, the steward with his chain; | |
| The butler drummed upon the board, and laughed with might and main; | |
| The grooms beat on their metal cans, and roared till they were red,— | |
| But still the Jester shut his eyes and rolled his witty head, | 10 |
| And when they grew a little still, read half a yard of text, | |
| And, waving hand, struck on the desk, then frowned like one perplexed. | |
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| “Dear sinners all,” the fool began, “man’s life is but a jest, | |
| A dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapor at the best. | |
| In a thousand pounds of law I find not a single ounce of love; | 15 |
| A blind man killed the parson’s cow in shooting at the dove; | |
| The fool that eats till he is sick must fast till he is well; | |
| The wooer who can flatter most will bear away the belle. | |
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| “Let no man halloo he is safe till he is through the wood; | |
| He who will not when he may, must tarry when he should; | 20 |
| He who laughs at crooked men should need walk very straight; | |
| O, he who once has won a name may lie abed till eight; | |
| Make haste to purchase house and land, be very slow to wed; | |
| True coral needs no painter’s brush, nor need be daubed with red. | |
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| “The friar, preaching, cursed the thief (the pudding in his sleeve); | 25 |
| To fish for sprats with golden hooks is foolish, by your leave; | |
| To travel well,—an ass’s ears, hog’s mouth, and ostrich legs; | |
| He does not care a pin for thieves who limps about and begs; | |
| Be always first man at a feast and last man at a fray; | |
| The short way round, in spite of all, is still the longest way; | 30 |
| When the hungry curate licks the knife, there ’s not much for the clerk; | |
| When the pilot, turning pale and sick, looks up—the storm grows dark.” | |
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| Then loud they laughed; the fat cook’s tears ran down into the pan; | |
| The steward shook, that he was forced to drop the brimming can; | |
| And then again the women screamed, and every staghound bayed,— | 35 |
| And why? because the motley fool so wise a sermon made. | |
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