The Woman and the Drunkard

068. THE WOMAN AND THE DRUNKARD. You will find the fable in English on this page; scroll to see if there are multiple English versions. [more info]

The Drunken Husband

172. THE DRUNKEN HUSBAND. A certain woman had a drunken husband, whom when she had endeavoured to reclaim several ways to no purpose, she tried this stratagem. When he was brought home one night, dead drunk, as it seems he frequently used to be, she ordered him to be carried to a burial-place, and there laid in a vault, as if he had been dead indeed. Thus she left him and went away, till she thought he might be come to himself, and grown sober again.
When she returned and knocked at the door of the vault, the man cried out, “Who's there?”
“I am the person,” says she, in a dismal tone, “that waits upon the dead folks, and I am come to bring you some victuals.”
“Ah! Good waiter,” says he, “let the victuals alone, and bring me a little drink, I beseech thee.”
The woman, hearing this, fell a tearing her hair and beating her breast in a woful manner. “Unhappy wretch that I am,” says she, “this was the only way that I could think of to reform the beastly sot; but instead of gaining my point, I am only convinced that this drunkenness is an incurable habit, which he intends to carry with him into the other world.” [more info]

The Drunkard and his Wife

03.07: THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE.
Each has his fault, to which he clings
In spite of shame or fear.
This apophthegm a story brings,
To make its truth more clear.
A sot had lost health, mind, and purse;
And, truly, for that matter,
Sots mostly lose the latter
Ere running half their course.
When wine, one day, of wit had fill'd the room,
His wife inclosed him in a spacious tomb.
There did the fumes evaporate
At leisure from his drowsy pate.
When he awoke, he found
His body wrapp'd around
With grave-clothes, chill and damp,
Beneath a dim sepulchral lamp.
'How's this? My wife a widow sad?'
He cried, 'and I a ghost? Dead? dead?'
Thereat his spouse, with snaky hair,
And robes like those the Furies wear,
With voice to fit the realms below,
Brought boiling caudle to his bier—
For Lucifer the proper cheer;
By which her husband came to know—
For he had heard of those three ladies—
Himself a citizen of Hades.
'What may your office be?'
The phantom question'd he.
'I'm server up of Pluto's meat,
And bring his guests the same to eat.'
'Well,' says the sot, not taking time to think,
'And don't you bring us anything to drink?'
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