go search for some yarrow or
millefoil, commonly called the carpenter's herb. The lion, being thus
healed, walked along in the forest at what time a sempiternous crone and
old hag was picking up and gathering some sticks in the said forest, who,
seeing the lion coming towards her, for fear fell down backwards, in such
sort that the wind blew up her gown, coats, and smock, even as far as above
her shoulders; which the lion perceiving, for pity ran to see whether she
had taken any hurt by the fall, and thereupon considering her how do you
call it, said, O poor woman, who hath thus wounded thee? Which words when
he had spoken, he espied a fox, whom he called to come to him saying,
Gossip Reynard, hau, hither, hither, and for cause! When the fox was come,
he said unto him, My gossip and friend, they have hurt this good woman here
between the legs most villainously, and there is a manifest solution of
continuity. See how great a wound it is, even from the tail up to the
navel, in measure four, nay full five handfuls and a half. This is the
blow of a hatchet, I doubt me; it is an old wound, and therefore, that the
flies may not get into it, wipe it lustily well and hard, I prithee, both
within and without; thou hast a good tail, and long. Wipe, my friend,
wipe, I beseech thee, and in the meanwhile I will go get some moss to put
into it; for thus ought we to succour and help one another. Wipe it hard,
thus, my friend; wipe it well, for this wound must be often wiped,
otherwise the party cannot be at ease. Go to, wipe well, my little gossip,
wipe; God hath furnished thee with a tail; thou hast a long one, and of a
bigness proportionable; wipe hard, and be not weary. A good wiper, who, in
wiping continually, wipeth with his wipard, by wasps shall never be
wounded. Wipe, my pretty minion; wipe, my little bully; I will not stay
long. Then went he to get store of moss; and when he was a little way off,
he cried out in speaking to the fox thus, Wipe well still, gossip, wipe,
and let it never grieve thee to wipe well, my little gossip; I will put
thee into service to be wiper to Don Pedro de Castile; wipe, only wipe, and
no more. The poor fox wiped as hard as he could, here and there, within
and without; but the false old trot did so fizzle and fist that she stunk
like a hundred devils, which put the poor fox to a great deal of ill ease,
for he knew not to what side to turn himself to escape the unsavoury
perfume of this old