The Earl of Southampton's Cat

The Mad Cat kept calling for a goodly tale from which all might learn something.

So I, not being ready with a tale that would spite the Sea Cat Nero, told of the Fox and the Cat.   A tale I have writ of before.  All listened most respective, but Nero looked scornful.

Then a cat, in jest, arrkst the Mad Cat for a tale.

The Mad Cat sayt he would tell no lies, but could give a true account of his coming hither from the town of Cambridge.

I sayt I would be glad to hear it, because my lord the young Earl is in college there.  I wished to know more of the town and how its learned folk conduct theirselves.

He began, “Nine winters past, when I was but a kitling new-weaned, the Queen Cat of Heaven spake a word to me.  She told me to set forth and rid this world of Sin.”

That set all screeching.

The young cat that is wise beyond his winters sayt, most civil, “No, friend.  Sin is the province of men and women.  We cats do only what is needful to live, and to joy ourselves if we have time enough.”

“So some say,” replied the Mad Cat.  “But my mistress reads aloud to us of an evening, and I know there was once a time when all creatures dwelt most peaceable together in a beauteous garden.  There was no unkindness, nor killing, nor being killed.”

“Then what did we cats eat?” called one.

The Mad Cat sayt, “Green herbs.”

I could not stop myself.  I called, “Was they served with gravy?”

A great screech went up.

Then I felt shamed for mocking this poor cat.

I sayt, “Friend, pray continue with your account of Cambridge town.”

He sayt, “I crept along the street, looking for Sin – “

“Like many before you, and since,” came a call.

“ – until I hungered and thirsted, so sat me down by what I took for an hospitable door.  A man in drink came out and cried: What’s that thing doing here?”

“Ridding you of Sin,” called some.

The Mad Cat did not heed them.  He sayt, “The drunkard fetched a sack and dropped me in it.  I feared he meant to cast me in the river.”

More screeches. “You tempted him.”

I rose and called for peace, saying, “We’ve had our mirth and merriment.  Now we must permit our friend to speak.”

A stone-cat glared at me.

I added, “If that mislikes any among you, then we may meet on the morrow and settle it like cats of honour.”

“What?” called another stone-cat, bristling up.  “You mean to fight us all?”

“No,” sayt Nero, rising.  “We mean to fight you all.”  Seeing my surprise, he hissed, “Some might say we poets are as hare-brained as he.  We must stick together.”

“I thank you,” sayt the Mad Cat, casting up his eyes to the moon (which to the best of my knowledge had not spake a word).  “But mockery is no discouragement.  Indeed, it fuels my fire.”

That silenced all.  We sat again, though many tails were twitching.  The Mad Cat continued his story.

“There were holes in the sack.  I thrust a paw through one, and put my eye to another.  I saw a gentlewoman, her maidservant, and her man, about to mount their horses.

“This gentlewoman, a widow as I later learnt, had a boy in college.  She’d come to see that he kept hisself clean in soul and body, wore warm clothes, and was not given to idleness.  Then she stayed to buy herself a book or two before her journey home.

“I reached out to hook her gown and called aloud for aid.  She turned and arrkst the drunkard what he did.  She sayt ’twere wickedness to use any creature ill, and told him she would take the sack.

“The wretch sayt he could not refuse her, because she had a pretty pair of bubs. Then he made to grope them.  Whereat her manservant gave him a shove that sat him down amidst the horses’ dung.

“A tavern door spewed forth its dregs, I mean his friends.  They set upon the manservant.  My mistress laid her riding switch about their ears, while her man traded blow for blow.  The maid wrenched a stick from one, then beat him with it.

“A clot of scholars ran to help us, calling:  Aid!  Aid for the fair lady and her damsel!

“Other men called:  A fight! A fight!  Some hasted to join the wretch that caused the strife.  And in truth, ’twere he and his friends who now required aid. 

“Then some little boys and girls, who’d favoured none and thrown muck at all, called a warning and ran off.  All scattered, my mistress and her servants riding switch and spur [at full speed] with me jouncing in the sack.  I was offered refreshment at the house where we lodged that night, and so came here rejoicing.”

The other cats praised his report on the fight, and took their leave most amiable.

Sayt I to my sister, “Think you that cat is mad?”

“Mad?” sayt she.  “He’s a prating puritan, like his mistress and all her household.”

“Then what learnt you from his goodly story?” I arrkst her.

“Never get into a fight with them,” sayt she.