uth, son of Nature, decides to marry Science, the
daughter of Reason and Experience. Nature approves of his intention, but
warns him that 'travail and time' are the only two by whose help he can
win the maid. For his servant and companion, however, she gives him
Will, a lively boy, full of sprightly fire. Science is now approached.
But it appears that only he who shall slay the giant, Tediousness, may
be her husband. To this trial Wit volunteers. He is advised first to
undergo long years of training under Instruction, Study, and Diligence;
but, soon tiring of them, he rashly goes to the fight, trusting that his
own strength, backed by the courage of Will and the half-hearted support
of Diligence, will prove sufficient. Too self-confident, he is
overthrown and his companions are put to flight. Will soon returns with
Recreation, by whose skill Wit is restored to vigour and better
resolution. Nevertheless, directly afterwards, he accepts the gentle
ministrations of the false jade, Idleness, who sings him to sleep and
then transforms him into the appearance of Ignorance. In this plight he
is found by his lady-love and her parents, who do not at first recognize
him. Shame is called in to doctor him. On his recovery he returns very
repentantly to the tuition of his three teachers, until, by their help
and Will's, he is able to slay the giant. As his reward he marries
Science.

As one of several good things in this pleasant Interlude may be quoted
Will's speech on life before and after marriage, from the point of view
of a favoured servant:

I am not disposed as yet to be tame,
And therefore I am loth to be under a dame.
Now you are a bachelor, a man may soon win you,
Methinks there is some good fellowship in you;
We may laugh and be merry at board and at bed,
You are not so testy as those that be wed.
Mild in behaviour and loth to fall out,
You may run, you may ride and rove round about,
With wealth at your will and all thing at ease,
Free, frank and lusty, easy to please.
But when you be clogged and tied by the toe
So fast that you shall not have pow'r to let go,
You will tell me another lesson soon after,
And cry _peccavi_ too, except your luck be the better.
Then farewell good fellowship! then come at a call!
Then wait at an inch, you idle knaves all!
Then sparing and pinching, and nothing of gift,
No talk with our master, but all for his thrift.