一　The　Bride　of　Jiao　Zhongqing　Southeast　the　love-lorn　peacock　flies.　Alack,　At　every　mile　she　falters　and　looks　back!　At　thirteen　years　Lanzhi　learned　how　to　weave;　At　fourteen　years　she　could　embroider,　sew;　At　fifteen　music　on　her　lute　she　made;　At　sixteen　knew　the　classics,　prose　and　verse,　At　seventeen　they　wed　her　to　Zhongqing,　And　from　that　day　what　joy　and　pain　were　hers!　As　work　kept　Zhongqing　in　the　yamen　far,　His　absence　made　her　love　the　deeper　still.　She　started　weaving　at　the　dawn　of　day,　Worked　at　the　loom　until　the　midnight　hour.　The　tapestries　beneath　her　fingers　grew,　Yet　Zhongqing's　mother　sore　berated　her—　Not　for　poor　work　or　any　tardy　pace,　But　she　was　mistress:　brides　must　know　their　place.　At　length　in　sorrow　to　Zhongqing　she　said,　"If　I　have　failed　to　serve　your　mother　well,　Useless　to　stay....Please　go　and　tell　her　so.　Should　she　think　fit,　I　fain　would　go　away."　The　husband,　shame-faced,　on　this　errand　went.　"Mother,"　he　said　,　"no　lordly　post　is　mine.　To　wed