John Barth - The Sot-Weed Factor

"Very well, sir," Bertrand said. "I shall begin at the beginning, if ye'll bear with me." So saying, he took the liberty of sitting at the Captain's table, facing Ebenezer, and with a full complement of moralizing asides and other commentary, delivered himself during the next half hour of the following story:

" 'Twas a double grief I carried from the posthouse in my heart, sir, inasmuch as I had lost the gentlest, kindliest master that ever poor servingman served, and could not even claim the privilege of seeing him off to Plymouth in his coach, and wishing him a last Godspeed. Therefore I sought a double physic for't. With the pound Miss Anna and her — What I mean to say, sir, I hied me to a winehouse near at hand and drank a deal of rackpunch, that the rogue of a barman had laced with such poisonous molasses rum I near went blind on the spot. Three glasses served to rob me of all judgment, yet such was my pain at losing you I drank off seven, and bought a quart of ratafia besides, for Betsy Birdsall. That is to say, not all the bottled spirits in London could restore my own, and so at length I fled for comfort back to Pudding Lane, to your rooms, sir. Yet well I knew they'd seem so vacant with ye gone, 'twould but increase tenfold my pain to sit alone, and for that cause I stopped belowstairs to summon Betsy Birdsall — ye recall the chambermaid, sir, that had the unnatural husband and the fetching laugh? We climbed the stairs together, and 'sheart! so far from vacant, your rooms were fit to burst with men, sir! A wight named Bragg there was, that looked nor manlier than my Betsy's husband, and a half-a-dozen sheriff's bullies with him; 'twas you they sought, sir, with some false tale of a ledger-book — I ne'er made rhyme nor sense of't!

"Directly they spied me a shout went up, and they were that bent on justice, I feared for Betsy's honor at their hands. At length I told them, in answer to their queries, my master was at the posthouse, and off they ran to catch ye — Nay, look not thus, sir! Tis not as ye think, I swear't! Not for a moment would I have breathed the truth, had I not known your coach was some time gone — rather would I have suffered death itself, or prison, at their hands! But well I knew 'twas a wild-goose chase they chased, and good riddance!

"We turned to't then, the wench and I, and with her her ratafia and me my rum we lacked no fire to warm the sheets withal, and were that tired when we had done, that though 'twas brightest day we slept some hours in sweat, sack a sack. Anon I knew, by certain signs, my mount was fresh and restless for the jumps; yet for a time I feigned to slumber on. (The truth of't is, though the girl and I are twins in will and skill, I've twice her years and half her strength, and more than once have cantered willy-nilly when I yearned to walk.) There were these signs, I say, that I'd have naught of, till Betsy made a moan and dived head foremost 'neath the covers. The cause wherefore I saw at once in opening my eyes, for 'twas not her hands were on me after all, but the hands of Mister 'Prentice-Clerk himself, the winehouse fiddler! Aye, I swear't, 'twas that same Ralph Birdsall, Betsy's husband, that erst was wont to leave his field unplowed, but since I seeded it had grown such a jealous farmer he looked to's plot five times a day. He had come home to run another furrow, like as not, and on advice from one below — the cook's boy Tim, that long himself had leched for Betsy — he stole upstairs to find us.

" 'Sblood, 'twas a murtherous moment, sir! I had like to smirch me for very fright, and waited only for knife or ball. Betsy likewise, albeit her head was buried like the ostrich's, showed great alarm: 'twas writ all over her hinder part. Yet Birdsall himself seemed no less racked: he shivered like a yawning cat and drew his breath unnaturally. Nor was't in wrath his hands lay on me, as I soon saw. Great tears coursed down his cheeks, the which were smooth as any girl's; he sniffed and bit his underlip, yet would not speak nor smite me down.

" 'Out on't!' I cried at last. 'Here I lie, and there lies thy wife, right roundly rogered: ye have caught us fair enough. Then make an end on't, sir, or get thee hence!' He then composed himself and said, that though 'twas in his rights to slay the twain of us, yet he had no taste for bloodshed and loved his wife besides. The horns were on his brow, he said, nor could his short-sword poll him. Moreover, he declared that in bedding Betsy I had bedded him, forasmuch as marriage made them one; and on this ground averred, that whate'er Betsy felt for me, he could but feel the same — in short, to the degree I was her lover, I was his as well, and this in the eyes of God Himself!

"Now all this Jesuitry I heard amazed, yet was right glad to remain unpunctured, and I made bold to put him in mind of that ancient and consoling verity, None save the wittol knows he is no cuckold. On hearing which, the wretch straightway embraced me, and de'il I had no taste for't, 'twas give him this head or lose my own. Betsy meanwhile, on hearing how the wind blew, soon calmed her shivering hams and, throwing off the covers, cried she had no mind to play Rub-a-dub-dub nor could she fathom how such a bedful of women had ever got her with child. At this Ralph Birdsall gave a mighty start and in a trembling tone enquired, was't he or I had got the child? Whereupon my Betsy cried, ' 'Twas he! 'Twas my sweet Bertrand!' Methought I was betrayed and cursed her for a liar; to Ralph I swore I'd ne'er laid hands on Betsy till a fortnight past, nor swived her till a good week after, whereas the child was three months in her belly if he was a day. 'He lies!' swore Betsy; 'I swear't!' swore I. 'Nay!' swore she. ' 'Tis full six months I've been his whore, that had no husband to wife me! A hundred times hath he climbed and sowed me, till I am full as a full-corned goose of him!' Ralph Birdsall then fetched out his sword, that, clerk or no, he boasted always at his hip. 'The truth!' he cried, and shook all over as with an ague. I still took Betsy for a traitor, and so declared, ' 'Fore God thy wife's a hellish liar, sir, but nonetheless she is no whore. May I fry in Hell if the child is any man's but yours.'

"Alas! What man can say he knows his fellow man? Who'd not have sworn, when at last I quite persuaded Birdsall, 'twould soften his wrath — the more for that 'twas not his horns that galled him? Yet when I'd said my piece and he Amen'd it, he drew himself up and scowled a fearsome scowl. 'Whore!' he cried at Betsy, and with the flat of his sword he fetched her a swingeing clap athwart her seat. Nor stopped he there, but made to run me through, and 'twas only the nimblest of legs that saved my neck. I snatched up my breeches and dashed for the door, with the fiddler in hot career behind, nor durst I stop to cover my shame till I was half a square before him — Better lose pride than hide, sir, as they say. As for my tattling Betsy, the last I saw her she was springing hither and yon about the room, sir, hands on her buttocks and hollowing like a hero, nor have I seen her since. The truth of't was, as I guessed later, the babe in Betsy's belly was the fiddler's claim to manhood, so long as he thought himself the father; it took no more than discovering us rem in rem to quite undo him. 'Twas only to save me the wench gave out the truth, and 'sblood! I cut my throat to call her false, for albeit the cuckold lost my trail, he'd vowed to hound me to the earth's ends and poll that horn wherewith himself was horned!

"There was naught for it then but I must flee; yet I had but three pound in my breeches, nor dared return for clothes or savings. I summoned a boy who happened through the alley where I hid and sent him with the money for shirt, hose, and shoes; then for an hour I prowled the streets, debating what to do.