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THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM
Three wise men of Gothaniy
They went to sea in a bowl.
And if the bowl had been stronger.
My tale had been longer.
In old days the village of Gotham was known throughout
all merry England, for that its men were wondrous wise.
On a time, twelve wise men of Gotham went a-fishing. Some
went into the water and some fished on dry land. As they ambled
home at nightfall, says one to the others, “We have been ven-
turesome this day, comrades, a-wading in the brook. A marvel
is it if none of us was drowned!”
“Aye, marry!” says another. ” Twere well to count our-
selves, lest, peradventure, one be left behind! Twelve of us did
come from home!”
So every man did count the others, man by man, and did
never count himself!
“Lauk-a-mercy-on-us!” they all began to cry. “Here be but
eleven. One of us is drowned!”
So they ran back to the brook, and looked up and down,
and here and there with outcries and loud lamentations.
Anon, came riding by a gentleman. “Save you, sirs,” says
he. “Why all this dreadful dole?”
“Alas, good master,” cried the wise men. “This day there
came twelve of us to fish in this brook, and one of us is drowned!”
“Bless me!” says the gentleman. “Coimt yourselves, then,
man by man !” And each did count eleven and never count himself.
” Twere pity of my life if one among so wise a company
were lost,” says the gentleman. “I pray you, what will you give
me an I find the twelfth man?”
“All that is in our wallets,” said the men of Gotham.
So they gave the gentleman all the money they had; then he
began with the first and gave him a whack on the shoulders with the
flat of his sword, that he shrieked aloud. “That is one, by your
leave!” says he, and he served them all likewise, counting them
man by man. But when he was come to the last, he gave him
a most dreadful whack, that he scarce held his footing. *’By
my faith!” cried he. “Here is your twelfth man!’*
“Marvelous!” cried all the company. “Marvelous past the
wit of man! You have found our neighbor that was lost!”
The next day but one, there went to market to Nottingham
to buy sheep, a certain man of Gotham, and, as he crossed over
Nottingham bridge, he met another man of Gotham going home.
“Where are you going?” asked he that came from Nottingham
— Dobbin by name.
“Marry,” says Hodge that was going to Nottingham. “I am
going to buy sheep.”
“And which way will you bring them home?” says Dobbin.
“Over this bridge,” says Hodge.
“Not SO, neither,” says Dobbin. “I like not to have sheep
cross over this bridge.”
“Beshrew me!” says Hodge, “but
will bring them over the bridge an
choose!”
“By my life, but you will not!”
“I will!”
“You will not!”
“Rascal!”
“Rogue!”
And they fell a-beating their staves one
against another as if there had been an hundred sheep between them.
“Have a care!” cried Hodge. “What with all this noise,
my sheep will jump off the bridge!”
“It matters not!” shrieked Dobbin. “They shall not cross!”
“If thou makest so much to do, FU put my fist in thy face!”
“And ril put my staff on thy pate!”
As they were thus at contention, there came by another man
of Gotham with a sack of meal on his horse. Seeing his neighbors
thus at strife about sheep when there were no sheep between
them, he said, “How now, stupid fellows, will you never learn
wisdom? Peace! Peace!” Then he took down the sack of
meal from his horse, went to the side of the bridge, opened the
mouth of the sack, and shook all his meal out into the river.
“Look you, sirrahs,” says he. “How much meal is there in
my sack?”
“Marry!” said they. “None at all!”
“By my faith,” says he. “There’s even as much meal in
my sack as wit in your heads, to be at strife about nothing! Let
this be a lesson to you!”
And he went on his way with his empty sack, looking most
marvelous wise.
When the summer was come, the men of Gotham found a
cuckoo in a hawthorn-brake, singing a rare enchanting song.
“Ho,” said they, “Ve will take this wondrous creature into
the midst of our village where all may hear it sing, and build a
hedge about it, that we may keep it with us all the year.”
So they fetched the cuckoo into the town and built a high
hedge about it.
“Sing there now all the year,” said they. At that, up sprang
the cuckoo and flew away.
“A murrain on us for stupid fellows,” cried the men of Gotham.
“We should have built our hedge higher!”
