# A History of Monsters 121

The master feeds his servants only so long as their labor continues, just as a harsh stepmother treats her stepchildren. The lazy servant spares himself even in the relentless heat, while the prostitute proves deceitful, gluttonous, and bold. Lovers are made fools by mere nods and grim glances, and a wife deafens her husband with her incessant chatter. Often, a husband longs for a forbidden divorce, and even those sworn to virginity grow weary of their celibate beds.

Deception is rampant in the marketplace. The spice merchant cheats on the true weight, often substituting cheap greens for millet. The butcher tricks many a buyer by pressing his heavy finger down on the scales. The baker produces uneven loaves; when she adds leaven to make the dough swell, the bread becomes hollow. With a thumb surreptitiously pulled back, the yardstick slips, and cloth is sold in dimly lit corners to hide its flaws. Though the merchant appears charming, he sells his goods against your interest, just as the dyer sets snares within his craft. The fuller and the tailor are no different; one sews while the other scorches the fabric, and by rushing their stitches, they turn a holiday into a day of toil. The furrier promises to line winter garments with lambskin, yet the sheep provides only common wool. Even the shoemaker uses his teeth to stretch boots and sandals so that a flimsy sole might deceive your eye.

The woodworker spits into his palms just to find an excuse to rest, listlessly hewing hard beams with a dull axe. Once he has pocketed his pay, the painter leaves his work unfinished in the stalls; let him finish it if you wish, but keep your money until he does. Day laborers curse the sun for being too slow to set, while the employer laments when the daylight finally fades. The contractor applies cement sparingly between the layers, leaving walls that lack the strength of proper lime. Sausage-makers grind half-dead flies into their stuffing, and cooks slurp down the thick broths for themselves. Goldsmiths, you draw out gold mixed with alloys; it is not the forge, but the chattering file of theft that creates your profit. As for the alchemists, let them work their bellows ever faster, for God alone has the power to change the nature of species and metals.

The host scurries about praising the dishes of the feast, just as the bookseller heaps praise upon my little verses. An ape believes its ugly offspring are beautiful, and every author views his own work as a masterpiece. Amidst rich delicacies, the groaning mother denies the milk and colostrum in her breasts. The midwife, who claims to adjust the womb and make it fertile, flatteringly declares the infant’s nose to be the image of its father’s. The nurse demands lozenges, eggs, and wine, and she does not shy away from ruinous lust. A sorceress kisses children in their sleep, while the man of luxury despises anything difficult. Time flies for the guardian but drags for the ward. The farm manager prays for sun only to be met with rain. Cunning peasants endure violence while the nobility swells with pride; the guest who arrives mild soon turns rapacious. Indeed, it is rare to find a youth who is both wise and sensible, and one might suspect that even the most decrepit old man is never truly free of envy.