A Man had a wife the fame of whose beauty was spread abroad and his neighbours said:
“Indeed this man must be happy for he has more good luck that the king as he possesses the Queen of Beauty as his bedfellow”.
Now it so happened that within his own house this man knew no peace for his beautiful wife, conscious of the admiration of the World – though she resigned the beauty of her body to the enjoyment of her husband – sought not to enhance the attraction of her charms by amiability of any kind.
The servant girl of this beautiful woman was endowed with no more than plain features, but she laid her small store of charms with such engaging modesty at the feet of her lord that he would often exclaim: “Verily my beautiful wife appears to me like a withered old hag by the side of her servant girl whose features are yet so plain.”
The beautiful wife of a man is a joy unto others but unto himself she is more often a gift far bitterer than aloes.