Anthony:  Forsooth, cousin, if a man were very weak, many words spoken (as you said right now) without interpausing, would peradventure at length somewhat weary him.  And therefore wished I the last time, after you were gone (when I felt myself, to say the truth, even a little weary), that I had not so told you a long tale alone, but that we had more often interchanged words, and parted the talking between us, with more often interparling upon your part, in such manner as learned men use between the persons whom they devise, disputing in their feigned dialogues.  But yet in that point I soon excused you and laid the lack where I found it, and that was even upon mine own neck.

For I remembered that between you and me it fared as it did once between a nun and her brother.  Very virtuous was this lady, and of a very virtuous place and enclosed religion.  And therein had she been long, in all which time she had never seen her brother, who was likewise very virtuous too, and had been far off at a university, and had there taken the degree of Doctor of Divinity.  When he was come home, he went to see his sister, as one who highly rejoiced in her virtue.  So came she to the grate that they call, I believe, the locutory, and after their holy watchword spoken on both sides, after the manner used in that place, each took the other by the tip of the finger, for no hand could be shaken through the grate.  And forthwith my lady began to give her brother a sermon of the wretchedness of this world, and frailty of the flesh, and the subtle sleights of the wicked fiend, and gave him surely good counsel (saving somewhat too long) how he should be well wary in his living and master well his body for the saving of his soul.  And yet, ere her own tale came to an end, she began to find a little fault with him and said, “In good faith, brother, I do somewhat marvel that you, who have been at learning so long and are a doctor and so learned in the law of God, do not now at our meeting (since we meet so seldom) to me who am your sister and a simple unlearned soul, give of your charity some fruitful exhortation.  For I doubt not but you can say some good thing yourself.”  “By my troth, good sister,” quoth her brother, “I cannot, for you!  For your tongue hath never ceased, but said enough for us both.”

And so, cousin, I remember that when I was once fallen in, I left you little space to say aught between.  But now will I therefore take another way with you, for of our talking I shall drive you to the one half.

Vincent:  Now, forsooth, uncle, this was a merry tale!  But now, if you make me talk the one half, then shall you be contented far otherwise than was of late a kinswoman of your own—­but which one I will not tell you; guess her if you can!  Her husband had much pleasure in the manner and behaviour of another honest man, and kept him therefore much company, so that he was at his mealtime the more often away from home.  So happed it one time that his