But what harm had poor I done? cried Trudon, hiding his left eye with his kerchief, and showing his tabor cracked on one side; they were not satisfied with thus poaching, black and bluing, and morrambouzevezengouzequoquemorgasacbaquevezinemaffreliding my poor eyes, but they have also broke my harmless drum.  Drums indeed are commonly beaten at weddings, and it is fit they should; but drummers are well entertained and never beaten.  Now let Beelzebub e’en take the drum, to make his devilship a nightcap.  Brother, said the lame catchpole, never fret thyself; I will make thee a present of a fine, large, old patent, which I have here in my bag, to patch up thy drum, and for Madame St. Ann’s sake I pray thee forgive us.  By Our Lady of Riviere, the blessed dame, I meant no more harm than the child unborn.  One of the equerries, who, hopping and halting like a mumping cripple, mimicked the good limping Lord de la Roche Posay, directed his discourse to the bum with the pouting jaw, and told him:  What, Mr. Manhound, was it not enough thus to have morcrocastebezasteverestegrigeligoscopapopondrillated us all in our upper members with your botched mittens, but you must also apply such morderegripippiatabirofrelucham
burelurecaquelurintimpaniments on our shinbones with the hard tops and extremities of your cobbled shoes.  Do you call this children’s play?  By the mass, ’tis no jest.  The bum, wringing his hands, seemed to beg his pardon, muttering with his tongue, Mon, mon, mon, vrelon, von, von, like a dumb man.  The bride crying laughed, and laughing cried, because the catchpole was not satisfied with drubbing her without choice or distinction of members, but had also rudely roused and toused her, pulled off her topping, and not having the fear of her husband before his eyes, treacherously trepignemanpenillorifrizonoufresterfumbled tumbled and squeezed her lower parts.  The devil go with it, said Basche; there was much need indeed that this same Master King (this was the catchpole’s name) should thus break my wife’s back; however, I forgive him now; these are little nuptial caresses.  But this I plainly perceive, that he cited me like an angel, and drubbed me like a devil.  He had something in him of Friar Thumpwell.  Come, for all this, I must drink to him, and to you likewise, his trusty esquires.  But, said his lady, why hath he been so very liberal of his manual kindness to me, without the least provocation?  I assure you, I by no means like it; but this I dare say for him, that he hath the hardest knuckles that ever I felt on my shoulders.  The steward held his left arm in a scarf, as if it had been rent and torn in twain.  I think it was the devil, said he, that moved me to assist at these nuptials; shame on ill luck; I must needs be meddling with a pox, and now see what I have got by the bargain, both my arms are wretchedly engoulevezinemassed and bruised.  Do you call this a wedding?  By St. Bridget’s tooth, I had rather be at that of a Tom T—­d-man.