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A Pottle o' Brains
"That's right," says she, "and thou 'st got thy pottle o' brains already."
"Where be they?" says he, looking about and feeling in his pockets.
"In thy wife's head," says she. "The only cure for a fool is a good wife to look after him, and that thou 'st got, so gode'en to thee!" And with that she nodded to them, and up and into the house.
So they went home together, and he never wanted to buy a pottle o' brains again, for his wife had enough for both.
There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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