THERSITES.

Thersites cometh in, first having a club upon his neck.[571]

Have in a ruffler forth of the Greek land, Called Thersites, if ye will me know: Aback, give me room, in my way do ye not stand; For if ye do, I will soon lay you low. In Homer of my acts ye have read, I trow: Neither Agamemnon nor Ulysses I spared to check: They could not bring me to be at their beck. Of late from the Siege of Troy I returned, Where all my harness except this club I lost. In an old house there it was quite burned, While I was preparing victuals for the host. I must needs get me new, whatsoever it cost; I will go seek adventures, for I can not be idle; I will hamper some of the knaves in a bridle. It grieveth me to hear how the knaves do brag; But by supreme Jupiter, when I am harnessed well, I shall make the dasters[572] to renne[573] into a bag, To hide them fro me as fro the devil of hell, I doubt not but hereafter of me ye shall hear tell: How I have made the knaves for to play couch-quail. But now to the shop of Mulciber to go I will not fail.

[Mulciber must have a shop made in the place, and Thersites cometh before it saying aloud:

Mulciber, whom the poets doth call the god of fire, Smith unto Jupiter, king over all: Come forth of thy office, I thee desire, And grant me my petition, I ask a thing but small. I will none of thy lightning, that thou art wont to make For the gods supernal, for ire when they do shake; With which they thrust the giants down to hell That were at a convention heaven to buy and sell. But I would have some help of Lemnos and Ithalia,[574] That of their steel by thy craft condatur mihi galea.

MULCIBER.

What, fellow Thersites, do ye speak Latin now? Nay then, farewell, I make God a vow, I do not you understand, no Latin is in my pallet. [And then he must do, as he would go away.

THERSITES.

I say, abide, good Mulciber, I pray thee make me a sallet.[575]

MULCIBER.

Why, Thersites, hast thou any wit in thy head? Wouldst thou have a sallet now? all the herbs are dead! Beside that it is not meet for a smith To gather herbs and sallets to meddle with. Go get thee to my lover Venus, She hath sallets enough for all us: I eat none such sallets, for now I wax old, And for my stomach they are very cold.

THERSITES.

Now I pray to Jupiter, that thou die a cuckold! I mean a sallet, with which men do fight.

MULCIBER.

It is a small tasting of a man's might, That he should for any matter Fight with a few herbs in a platter: No great laud should follow that victory.

THERSITES.

God's passion, Mulciber, where is thy wit and memory? I would have a sallet made of steel.

MULCIBER.

Why, sir, in your stomach long you shall it feel, For steel is hard for to digest.

THERSITES.

Man's bones and sides, he is worse than a beast! I would have a sallet to wear on my head, Which under my chin with a thong red Buckled shall be: Dost thou yet perceive me?

MULCIBER.

Your mind now I see: Why, thou peevish lad, Art thou almost mad, Or well in thy wit? Get thee a wallet: Would thou have a sallet? What wouldst thou do with it?

THERSITES.

I pray thee, good Mulciber, make no mo bones, But let me have a sallet made at once.

MULCIBER.

I must do somewhat for this knave; [Aside. What manner of sallet, sir, would ye have?

THERSITES.

I would have such a one, that nother might nor main Should pierce it through, or part it in twain; Which nother gunstone nor sharp spear Should be able other to hurt or tear. I would have it also for to save my head, If Jupiter himself would have me dead; And if he in a fume would cast at me his fire, This sallet I would have to keep me from his ire.

MULCIBER.

I perceive your mind. Ye shall find me kind; I will for you prepare:—

[And then he goeth into his shop, and maketh a sallet for him; at the last he saith:

Here, Thersites, do this sallet wear, And on thy head it bear; And none shall work thee care.

[Then Mulciber goeth into his shop, until he is called again.

THERSITES.

Now would I not fear with any bull to fight, Or with a ramping lion, nother by day nor night. Oh, what great strength is in my body so lusty, Which for lack of exercise is now almost rusty. Hercules in comparison to me was but a boy, When the bandog Cerberus from hell he bare away: When he killed the lion, hydra, and the boar[576] so wild. Compare him to me, and he was but a child! Why, Samson, I say, hast thou no more wit? Wouldst thou be as strong as I? come, suck thy mother's teat! Ween you that David, that little elfish boy, Should with his sling have take my life away? Nay, i-wis, Goliath, for all his five stones, I would have quashed his little boyish bones. Oh, how it would do my heart much good To see some of the giants before Noe's flood! I would make the knaves to cry crik,[577] Or else with my club their brains I will break But, Mulciber, yet I have not with thee do: My head is armed, my neck I would have too; And also my shoulders with some good habergin, That the devil, if he shot at me, could not enter in. For I am determined great battle to make, Except my fumishness by some means may aslake.

MULCIBER.

Buckle on this habergin, as fast as thou can, And fear for the meeting of nother beast nor man. If it were possible for one to shoot an oak, This habergin will defend thee from the stroke. Let them throw milestones at thee as thick as hail, Yet thee to kill they shall [of] their purpose fail. If Malvern Hills should on thy shoulders light, They shall not hurt them, nor suppress thy might. If Bevis of Hampton, Colburn, and Guy, Will thee assay, set not by them a fly! To be brief, this habergin shall thee save Both by land and water; now play the lusty knave. [Then he goeth into his shop again.

THERSITES.

When I consider my shoulders, that so broad be, When the other parts of my body I do behold, I verily think that none in Christian'ty With me to meddle dare be so bold. Now have at the lions on Cots'old![578] I will neither spare for heat nor for cold. Where art thou, King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table? Come, bring forth your horses out of the stable! Lo, with me to meet they be not able: By the mass, they had rather wear a bable. Where art thou, Gawain the courteous and Kay the crabbed? Here be a couple of knights cowardish and scabbed! Appear in thy likeness, Sir Libeus Disconius,[579] If thou wilt have my club light on thy headibus. Lo, ye may see he beareth not the face With me to try a blow in this place. How, sirrah, approach, Sir Launcelot de Lake, What, renne ye away, and for fear quake? Now he that did thee a knight make Thought never that thou any battle shouldst take. If thou wilt not come thyself, some other of thy fellows send: To battle I provoke them; themselves let them defend. Lo, for all the good that ever they see, They will not once set hand to fight with me. O good Lord, how broad is my breast And strong withal, for whole is my chest. He that should meddle with me should have shrewd rest. Behold you my hands, my legs, and my feet; Every part is strong, proportionable, and meet. Think you that I am not fear'd in field and street? Yes, yes, God wot, they give me the wall, Or else with my club I make them to fall. Back, knaves, I say to them, then for fear they quake; And take me then to the tavern, and good cheer me make. The proctor and his men I made to renne their ways, And some went to hide them in broken hays.[580] I tell you at a word, I set not a turd By none of them all: Early and late I will walk, And London streets stalk, Spite of them great and small: For I think verily, That none in heaven so high, Nor yet in hell so low, While I have this club in my hand, Can he able me to withstand, Or me to overthrow. But, Mulciber, yet I must thee desire To make me briggen[581] irons for mine arms, And then I will love thee as mine own sire; For without them I cannot be safe from all harms. Those once had, I will not set a straw By all the world, for then I will by awe Have all my mind, or else, by the holy rood, I will make them think the devil carrieth them to the wood.[582] If no man will with me battle take, A voyage to hell quickly I will make, And there I will beat the devil and his dame, And bring the souls away: I fully intend the same. After that in hell I have ruffled so, Straight to old Purgatory will I go. I will clean that, [and] so purge [it] round about, That we shall need no pardons to help them out. If I have not fight enough this ways, I will climb to heaven and fet away Peter's keys; I will keep them myself and let in a great rout; What, should such a fisher keep good fellows out?

MULCIBER.

Have here, Thersites, briggen irons bright, And fear thou no man manly to fight; Though he be stronger than Hercules or Samson, Be thou prest and bold to set him upon. Nother Amazon nor Xerxes with their whole rabble Thee to assail shall find it profitable. I warrant thee they will flee from thy face, As doth an hare from the dogs in a chace. Would not thy black and rusty grim beard, Now thou art so armed, make any man afeard? Surely, if Jupiter did see thee in this gear, He would renne away, and hide him for fear! He would think that Typhaeus the giant were alive, And his brother Enceladus, again with him to strive. If that Mars, of battle the god stout and bold, In this array should chance thee to behold, He would yield up his sword unto thee, And god of battle (he would say) thou shouldst be. Now fare thou well, go the world through, And seek adventures, thou art man good enou'.

THERSITES.

Mulciber, while the stars shall shine in the sky, And Phaeton's horses with the sun's chariot shall fly; While the morning shall go before noon, And cause the darkness to vanish away soon: While that the cat shall love well milk, And while that women shall love to go in silk: While beggars have lice, And cockneys are nice: While pardoners can lie, Merchants can buy, And children cry: While all these last, and more, Which I keep in store, I do me faithfully bind Thy kindness to bear in mind. But yet, Mulciber, one thing I ask more: Hast thou ever a sword now in store? I would have such a one that would cut stones, And pare a great oak down at once. That were a sword, lo, even for the nonce.

MULCIBER.

Truly I have such a one in my shop, That will pare iron, as it were a rope. Have, here it is, gird it to thy side: Now fare thou well, Jupiter be thy guide!

THERSITES.

Gramercy, Mulciber, with my whole heart Give me thy hand, and let us depart.[583]

[Mulciber goeth into his shop again, and Thersites saith forth:

Now I go hence, and put myself in prease:[584] I will seek adventures; yea, and that I will not cease. If there be any present here this night, That will take upon them with me to fight, Let them come quickly, and the battle shall be pight. Where is Cacus, that knave not worth a groat, That was wont to blow clouds out of his throat; Which stole Hercules kine, and hid them in his cave? Come hither, Cacus, thou lubber and false knave: I will teach all wretches by thee to beware! If thou come hither, I trap thee in a snare; Thou shalt have knocked bread and ill-fare. How say you, good godfather, that look so stale, Ye seem a man to be born in the vale? Dare ye adventure with me a stripe or two? Go, coward, go, hide thee as thou wast wont to do! What a sort of dastards have we here! None of you to battle with me dare appear. What say you, heart of gold, of countenance so demure? Will you fight with me? no, I am right sure. Fye, blush not, woman, I will do you no harm, Except I had you sooner to keep my back warm. Alas, little pums, why are ye so sore afraid? I pray you show how long it is, since ye were a maid? Tell me in mine ear; sirs, she hath me told That gone was her maidenhead at thrusteen[585] year old! By lady, she was loth to keep it too long: And I were a maid again[586] now may be here song.[587] Do after my counsel of maidens the whole bevy, Quickly rid your maidenheads, for they are vengeance heavy, Well, let all go: why, will none come in With me to fight, that I may pare his skin?

[The Mater cometh in.

MATER

What say you, my son, will ye fight? God it defend! For what cause to war do you now pretend? Will ye commit to battles dangerous Your life that is to me so precious?

THERSITES.

I will go, I will go; stop not my way! Hold me not, good mother, I heartily you pray. If there be any lions or other wild beast, That will not suffer the husbandman in rest, I will go seech them, and bid them to a feast: They shall aby bitterly the coming of such a guest. I will search for them both in bush and shrub, And lay on a load with this lusty club.

MATER.

O my sweet son, I am thy mother; Wilt thou kill me, and thou hast none other?

THERSITES.

No, mother, no, I am not of such iniquity, That I will defile my hands upon thee. But be content, mother, for I will not rest Till I have fought with some man or wild beast.

MATER.

Truly, my son, if that ye take this way, This shall be the conclusion, mark what I shall say. Other I will drown myself for sorrow, And feed fishes with my body before to-morrow, Or with a sharp sword surely I will me kill: Now thou mayst save me, if it be thy will. I will also cut my paps away, That gave thee suck so many a day; And so in all the world it shall be known, That by my own son I was overthrown. Therefore, if my life be to thee pleasant, That which I desire, good son, do me grant.

THERSITES.

Mother, thou spendest thy wind but in waste; The goddess of battle her fury on me hath cast. I am fully fixed battle for to taste: Oh, how many to death I shall drive in haste! I will ruffle this club about my head, Or else I pray God I never die in my bed. There shall never a stroke be stroken with my hand, But they shall think that Jupiter doth thunder in the land.

MATER.

My own sweet son, I, kneeling on my knee, And both my hands holding up to thee, Desire thee to cease, and no battle make: Call to thee patience, and better ways take.

THERSITES.

Tush, mother, I am deaf; I will thee not hear. No, no, if Jupiter here himself now were, And all the gods, and Juno his wife, And loving Minerva that abhorreth all strife: If all these, I say, would desire me to be content, They did their wind but in vain spent;[588] I will have battle in Wales or in Kent, And some of the knaves I will all-to rent.[589] Where is the valiant knight, Sir Isenbras? Appear, sir, I pray you, dare ye not show your face? Where is Robin John and Little Hood?[590] Approach hither quickly, if ye think it good; I will teach such outlaws with Christ's curses, How they take hereafter away abbots' purses. Why, will no adventure appear in this place? Where is Hercules with his great mace? Where is Busiris, that fed his horses Full like a tyrant with dead men's corses?[591] Come, any of you both, And I make an oath, That ere I eat any bread, I will drive a wain, Yea, for need twain, Between your body and your head. This[592] passeth my brains; Will none take the pains To try with me a blow? Oh, what a fellow am I, Whom every man doth fly, That doth me but once know!

MATER.

Son, all do you fear, That be present here; They will not with you fight. You, as you be worthy, Have now the victory Without tasting of your might. Here is none, I trow, That proffereth you a blow: Man, woman, nor child. Do not set your mind To fight with the wind: Be not so mad nor wild.

THERSITES.

I say, arise, whosoever will fight: I am to battle here ready-dight. Come hither, other swain or knight; Let me see who dare present him to my sight! Here with my club ready I stand, If any will come to take them in hand.

MATER.

There is no hope left in my breast To bring my son into better rest: He will do nothing at my request; He regardeth me no more than a beast. I see no remedy; but still I will pray To God my son to guide in his way; That he may have a prosperous journeying, And to be safe at his returning. Son, God above grant this my oration That, when in battle thou shalt have concertation With your enemies, other far or near, No wound in them nor in you may appear, So that ye nother kill nor be killed.

THERSITES.

Mother, thy petition, I pray God, be fulfilled, For then no knaves' blood shall be spilled. Fellows, keep my counsel; by the mass, I do but crake:[593] I will be gentle enough, and no business make. But yet I will make her believe that I am a man— Think you that I will fight? no, no, but with the can. Except I find my enemy on this wise, That he be asleep, or else cannot arise. If his arms and his feet be not fast bound, I will not proffer a stripe for a thousand pound. Farewell, mother, and tarry here no longer, For after prowess of chivalry I do both thirst and hunger: I will beat the knaves as flat as a conger.

[Then the mother goeth in the place which is prepared for her.

What, how long shall I tarry; be your hearts in your hose? Will there none of you in battle me oppose? Come, prove me, why stand you so in doubt? Have you any wild blood that ye would have let out? Alack, that a man's strength cannot be knowen, Because that he lacketh enemies to be overthrowen!

[Here a snail must appear unto him, and he must look fearfully upon the snail, saying:

But what a monster do I see now,[594] Coming hitherward with an armed brow! What is it? ah, it is a sow! No, by God's body, it is but a gristle, And on the back it hath never a bristle. It is not a cow—ah, there I fail: For then it should have a long tail. What the devil, I was blind! it is but a snail: I was never so afraid in east nor in south; My heart at the first sight was at my mouth. Marry, sir, fy, fy, fy, I do sweat for fear: I thought I had craked but too timely here. Hence, thou beast, and pluck in thy horns, Or I swear by him that crowned was with thorns, I will make thee drink worse than good ale in the corns. Hast thou nothing else to do, But come with horns and face me so? How, how, my servants, get you shield and spear, And let us worry and kill this monster here. [Here Miles cometh in.

MILES.

Is not this a worthy knight, That with a snail dareth not fight, Except he have his servants' aid? Is this the champion that maketh all men afraid? I am a poor soldier come of late from Calais, I trust, ere I go, to debate some of his malice. I will tarry my time, till I do see Betwixt him and the snail what the end will be.

THERSITES.

Why, ye whoreson knaves, regard ye not my calling? Why do ye not come, and with you weapons bring? Why shall this monster so escape killing? No, that he shall not, and God be willing.

MILES.

I promise you this is as worthy a knight, As ever shall bread out of a bottle bite. I think he be Dares, of whom Virgil doth write, That would not let Entellus alone, But ever provoked and ever called on, But yet at the last he took a fall, And so within a while I trow I make thee[595] shall.

THERSITES.

By God's passion, knaves, if I come, I will you fetter: Regard ye my calling and crying no better? Why, whoresons, I say, will ye not come? By the mass, the knaves be all from home: They had better have fet me an errand at Rome.

MILES.

By my troth, I think that very scant This lubber dare adventure to fight with an ant.

THERSITES.

Well, seeing my servants come to me will not, I must take heed that this monster me spill not; I will jeopard with it a joint, And other with my club or my sword's point I will reach it such wounds, As I would not have for forty thousand pounds. Pluck in thy horns, thou unhappy beast; What, facest thou me? wilt not thou be in rest? Why, will not thou thy horns in hold? Thinkest thou that I am a cuckold? God's arms, the monster cometh toward me still, Except I fight manfully, it will me surely kill!

[Then he must fight against the snail with his club.

MILES.

O Jupiter Lord, dost thou not see and hear, How he feareth the snail, as it were a bear!

THERSITES.

Well, with my club I have had good luck; Now with my sword have at thee a pluck!

[And he must cast his club away.

I will make thee, ere I go, for to duck, And thou were as tall a man as Friar Tuck. I say yet again, thy horns in draw, Or else I will make thee to have wounds raw. Art thou not afeard To have thy beard Pared with my sword?

[Here he must fight then with his sword against the snail, and the snail draweth her horns in.

Ah well, now no more: Thou mightest have done so before. I laid at it so sore, That it thought it should have be lore[596] And it had not drawn in his horns again, Surely I would the monster have slain. But now, farewell, I will work thee no more pain. Now my fume is past, And doth no longer last, That I did to the monster cast. Now in other countries both far and near Mo deeds of chivalry I will go inquire.

MILES.

Thou needst not seek any further, for ready I am here: I will debate anon, I trow, thy bragging cheer.

THERSITES. [Not hearing him. Now where is any mo that will me assail? I will turn him and toss him, both top and tail; If he be stronger than Samson was, Who with his bare hands killed lions apace.

MILES.

What needeth this boast? I am here at hand, That with thee will fight; keep thy head, and stand! Surely for all thy high words I will not fear To assay thee a touch, till some blood appear; I will give thee somewhat for the gift of a new year.

[And he beginneth to fight with him, but Thersites must run away, and hide him behind his mother's back, saying:

THERSITES.

O mother, mother, I pray thee me hide: Throw something over me, and cover me every side.

MATER.

O my son, what thing eldeth[597] thee?

THERSITES.

Mother, a thousand horsemen do persecute me.

MATER.

Marry, son, then it was time to fly; I blame thee not, then, though afraid thou be. A deadly wound thou mightst there soon catch: One against so many is no indifferent[598] match.

THERSITES.

No, mother, but if they had been but ten to one, I would not have avoided, but set them upon; But seeing they be so many, I ran away. Hide me, mother, hide me, I heartily thee pray. For if they come hither, and here me find, To their horses' tails they will be bind, And after that fashion hale me, and kill me; And though I were never so bold and stout, To fight against so many I should stand in doubt.

MILES.

Thou that dost seek giants to conquer, Come forth, if thou dare, and in this place appear. Fie for shame, dost thou so soon take flight! Come forth, and show somewhat of thy might.

THERSITES.

Hide me, mother, hide me, and never word say—

MILES.

Thou old trot, seest thou any man come this way, Well-armed and weaponed, and ready to fight?

MATER.

No, forsooth, master, there came none in my sight.

MILES.

He did avoid in time, for without doubts I would have set on his back some clouts; If I may take him, I will make all slouches To beware by him, that they come not in my clutches.

[Then he goeth out, and the mother saith:

MATER.

Come forth, my son, your enemy is gone: Be not afraid, for hurt thou canst have none.

[Then he looketh about, if he be gone or not; at the last he saith:

THERSITES.

I-wis, thou didst wisely, whosoever thou be, To tarry no longer to fight with me; For with my club I would have broken thy skull, If thou were as big as Hercules' bull. Why, thou cowardly knave, no stronger than a duck, Barest thou try masteries with me a-pluck. Which fear nother giants nor Jupiter's fire-bolt, Nor Belzebub the master-devil, as ragged as a colt? I would thou wouldst come hither once again: I think thou hadst rather alive to be flayn. Come again, and I swear by my mother's womb, I will pull thee in pieces no more than my thumb; And thy brains abroad I will so scatter, That all knaves shall fear against me to clatter.

[Then cometh in Telemachus, bringing a letter from his father Ulysses, and Thersites saith:

What, little Telemachus! What makest thou here among us?

TELEMACHUS.

Sir, my father Ulysses doth him commend To you most heartily, and here he hath you send Of his mind a letter, Which show you better Everything shall, Than I can make rehearsal. [Here he must deliver him the letter.

THERSITES.

Lo, friends, ye may see What great men write to me. [Here he must read the letter. As entirely as heart can think, Or scrivener can write with ink, I send you loving greeting, Thersites, my own sweeting! I am very sorry, When I cast in memory The great unkindness And also the blindness, That hath be in my breast Against you ever prest: I have be prompt and diligent Ever to make you shent, To appal your good name, And to 'minish your fame: In that I was to blame; But well all this is gone, And remedy there is none, But only repentance Of all my old grievance, With which I did you molest, And gave you sorry rest: The cause was thereof truly Nothing but very envy; Wherefore now, gentle esquire, Forgive me, I you desire, And help, I you beseech, Telemachus to a leech, That him may wisely charm From the worms that do him harm; In that ye may do me pleasure, For he is my chief treasure. I have heard men say, That come by the way, That better charmer is no other, Than is your own dear mother. I pray you of her obtain To charm away his pain. Fare ye well, and come to my house To drink wine and eat a piece of souse; And we will have minstrelsy, That shall pipe Hankin boby. My wife Penelope Doth greet you well by me. Writing at my house on Candlemas-day, Midsummer month, the Calends of May, By me, Ulysses, being very glad That the victory of late of the monster ye had. Ah, sirrah, quoth he? how say you, friends all, Ulysses is glad for my favour to call. Well, though we oft have swerved, And he small love deserved, Yet I am well content, Seeing he doth repent, To let old matters go, And to take him no more so, As I have done hitherto, For my mortal foe. Come go with me, Telemachus; I will thee bring Unto my mother to have her charming. I doubt not, but by that time that she hath done, Thou shalt be the better seven years agone. [Then Thersites goeth to his mother, saying: Mother, Christ thee save and see, Ulysses hath send his son to thee, That thou shouldst him charm From the worms that him harm.

MATER.

Son, ye be wise, keep ye warm! Why should I for Ulysses do, That never was kind us to? He was ready in war Ever thee, son, to mar; Then had been all my joy Exiled clean away.

THERSITES.

Well, mother, all that is past; Wrath may not always last, And seeing we be mortal all, Let not our wrath be immortal.

MATER.

Charm that charm will, he shall not be charmed of me.

THERSITES.

Charm, or, by the mass, with my club I will charm thee.

MATER.

Why, son, art thou so wicked to beat thy mother?

THERSITES.

Yea, that I will, by God's dear brother! Charm, old witch, in the devil's name, Or I will send thee to him to be his dame.

MATER.

Alas! what a son have I, That thus doth order me spitefully! Cursed be the time that ever I him fed! I would in my belly he had be dead!

THERSITES.

Cursest thou, old whore? bless me again, Or I will bless thee, that shall be to thy pain.

[Then he must take her by the arms, and she crieth out as followeth:

MATER.

He will kill me, He will spill me, He will bruise me, He will lose me, He will prick me, He will stick me.

THERSITES.

The devil stick thee, old withered witch, For I will stick nother thee nor none such. But come off, give me thy blessing again: I say, let me have it, or else certain With my club I will lay thee on the brain.

MATER.

Well, seeing thou threatenest to me affliction, Spite of my heart, have now my benediction. Now Christ's sweet blessing and mine Light above and beneath the body of thine, And I beseech with all my devotion, That thou mayst come to a man's promotion! He that forgave Mary Magdalen her sin, Make thee highest of all thy kin!

THERSITES.

In this word is double intelliment[599]: Wouldst thou have me hanged, mother, verament?

MATER.

No, son, no; but to have you high In promotion is my mind, verily.

THERSITES.

Well then, mother, let all this go, And charm this child that you is send to. And look hereafter to curse ye be not greedy: Curse me no more, I am cursed enough already.

MATER

Well, son, I will curse you no more, Except ye provoke me too-too sore; But I marvel why ye do me move To do for Ulysses, that doth not us love.

THERSITES.

Mother, by his son he hath send me a letter, Promising hereafter to be to us better, And you, and I with my great club, Must walk to him, and eat a sillabub; And we shall make merry, And sing tyrl on the bery, With Simkin Sydn'am Sumn'nor That killed a cat at Cumnor; There the trifling taborer, troubler of Tunis, Will pick Peter Pie-baker a pennyworth of prunes; Nichol Nevergood a net and a nightcap Knit will for Kit, whose knee caught a knap; David Doughty, dighter of dates, Grin with Godfrey Good-ale will greedy at the gates; Tom Tumbler of Tewksbury, turning at a trice, Will wipe William Waterman, if he be not wise: Simon Sadler of Sudeley, that served the sow, Hit will Henry Heartless, he heard not yet how. Jenkin Jacon, that jobbed jolly Joan, Griud will gromaly-seed[600], until he groan. Proud Pierce Pick-thank, that picked Parnel's purse, Cut will the cakes, though Kate do cry and curse. Rough Robin Rover, ruffling in right rate, Bald Bernard Brainless will beat, and Bennet bate; Foolish Frederick Furberer of a fart Ding Daniel Dainty to death will with a dart. Marculph Merrylees, mourning for mad Mary, Tink will the tables, though he there not tarry. Andrew All-Knave, alderman of Antwerp, Hop will with hollyhocks and harken Humphrey's harp. It is too-too, mother, the pastime and good cheer That we shall see and have, when that we come there; Wherefore, gentle mother, I thee heartily pray, That thou wilt charm for worms this pretty boy.

MATER.

Well, son, seeing the case and matter standeth so, I am content all thy request to do. Come hither, pretty child, I will thee charm from the worms wild; But first do thou me thy name tell.

TELEMACHUS.

I am called Telemachus, there as I dwell.

MATER.

Telemachus, lie down upright on the ground, And stir not once for a thousand pound.

TELEMACHUS.

I am ready here prest To do all your request.

[Then he must lay him down with his belly upward, and she must bless him from above to beneath, saying as followeth:

MATER.

The cowherd of Comerton[601] with his crooked spade Cause from thee the worms soon to vade! And jolly Jack Tumbler, that juggleth with a horn, Grant that thy worms soon be all-to torn! Good grandsire Abraham, godmother to Eve, Grant that this[602] worms no longer this child grieve! All the court of conscience in Cuckoldshire: Tinkers and taborers, tipplers, taverners: Tittifills, triflers, turners and trumpers: Tempters, traitors, travellers and thumpers: Thriftless, thievish, thick and thereto thin: The malady of this worms cause for to blin! The virtue of the tail of Isaac's cow, That before Adam in paradise did low! Also the joist of Moses' rod, In the Mount of Calvary that spake with God: Facies ad faciem, turning tail to tail, Cause all these worms quickly to fail! The bottom of the ship of Noe, And also the leg of the horse of Troy: The piece of the tongue of Balaam's ass, The chawbone[603] of the ox that at Christ's birth was, The eye-tooth of the dog that went on pilgrimage With young Tobias, these worms soon may suage! The butterfly of Bromwicham that was born blind, The blast of the bottle that blowed Aeolus' wind, The buttock of the bitter[604] bought at Buckingham, The body of the bear that with Bevis came, The backster[605] of Bal[d]ockbury with her baking peel,[606] Child, fro thy worms, I pray, may soon thee heal The tapper of Tavistock and the tapster's pot! The tooth of the titmouse, the turd of the goat, In the Tower of Tennis-balls toasted by the fire, The table of Tantalus turned trim in the mire, The tomb of Tom Threadbare that thrust Tib through the smoke, Make all thy worms, child, to come forth at thy dock! Shem, Cam,[607] and Japhet, and Coll the miller's mare, The five stones of David that made Goliath stare, The wing with which St Michael did fly to his mount, The counters wherewith Cherubim did cherry-stones count, The hawk with which Asuerus[608] killed the wild boar, Help that these worms, my child, hurt thee no more! The maw of the moor-cock that made Maud to mow, When Martlemas at Morton mourned for the snow: The spear of Spanish spilbery sprent with spiteful spots, The lights of the laverock laid at London lots, The shinbone of St Samuel shining so as the sun, Grant, child, of the worms that soon thy pains be done! Mother Brice of Oxford and great Gib of Hinksey, Also Maud of Thrutton[609] and Mabel of Chertsey, And all other witches that walk in Dimmings Dale,[610] Clittering and clattering there your pots with ale, Incline your ears, and hear this my petition, And grant this child of health to have fruition! The blessing that Jordan to his godson gave, Light on my child, and from the worms him save! Now stand up, little Telemachus, anon: I warrant thee by to-morrow thy worms will be gone.

TELEMACHUS.

I thank you, mother, in my most hearty[611] wise; Will ye, sir, to my father command me any service?

THERSITES.

No, pretty boy, but do thou us two commend To thy father and mother; tell them that we intend, Both my mother and I, To see them shortly.

TELEMACHUS.

Ye shall be heartily welcome to them, I dare well say; Fare ye well, by your leave: now I will depart away.

THERSITES.

Son, give me thy hand. Farewell.

MATER.

I pray God keep thee from peril. [Telemachus goeth out, and the mother sayeth: I-wis it is a proper child, And in behaviour nothing wild; Ye may see what is good education: I would every man after this fashion Had their children up brought. Then many of them would not have been so nought: A child is better unborn than untaught.

THERSITES.

Ye say truth, mother; well, let all this go, And make you ready Ulysses to go to With me anon; be ye so content?

MATER.

I am well pleased; to your will I assent, For, although that I love him but very evil, It is good to set a candle before the devil. Of most part of great men, I swear by this fire, Light is the thank, but heavy is the ire. Farewell, son, I will go me to prepare.

THERSITES.

Mother, God be with you and keep you from care.

[The mother goeth out, and Thersites saiyeth forth:

Whatsomever I say, sirs, I think ill might she fare; I care not if the old witch were dead: It were an almsdeed to knock her in the head, And say on the worms that she did die; For there be many that my lands would buy. By God's blessed brother, If I were not sick of the mother! This toothless trot keepeth me hard, And suffereth no money in my ward; But, by the blessed Trinity, If she will no sooner dead be, I will with a cushion stop her breath, Till she have forgot Newmarket heath. Ill might I fare, If that I care Her to spare: About the house she hoppeth, And her nose oft droppeth, When the worts she choppeth: When that she doth brew, I may say to you, I am ready to spew, The drops to see down renne, By all Christian men, From her nose to her knen[612] Fie, God's body, it maketh me to spit, To remember how that she doth sit, By the fire brawling, Scratching and scrawling, And in every place Laying oysters apace. She doth but lack shells: The devil have they whit else. At night, when to bed she goes, And plucketh off her hose, She knappeth me in the nose With rip, rap, Flip, flap, That an ill-hap Come to that tap, That venteth so, Wheresoever she go! So much she daily drinketh, That her breath at both ends stinketh; That an horse-comb and an halter Her soon up talter! Till I say David's psalter That shall be at Nevermass, Which never shall be, nor never was. By this ten bones, She served me once A touch for the nonce. I was sick and lay in my bed; She brought me a kerchief to wrap on my head, And I pray God that I be dead, If that I lie any whit, When she was about the kerchief to knit, Break did one of the forms' feet, That she did stand on, And down fell she anon, And forth withal, As she did fall, She girdeth out a fart, That me made to start: I think her buttocks did smart: Except it had be a mare in a cart, I have not heard such a blast. I cried and bid her hold fast: With that she, nothing aghast, Said to me, that no woman in this land Could hold fast that which was not in her hand. Now, sirs, in that whole pitch and fire-brand Of that bag so fusty, So stale and so musty, So cankered and so rusty, So stinking and so dusty, God send her as much joy, As my nose hath alway Of her unsavory spice. If that I be not wise, And stop my nose quickly, When she letteth go merrily. But let all this go. I had almost forgot The knave that here erewhile did jet, Before that Telemachus did come in. I will go seech him; I will not blin, Until that I have him: Then, so God save him, I will so beknave him, That I will make to rave him; With this sword I will shave him, And stripes when I have gave him, Better I will deprave him, That you shall know for a slave him.

[Then Miles cometh in saying:

MILES.

Wilt thou so indeed? Hie thee, make good speed! I am at hand here prest, Put away tongue-shaking And this foolish craking. Let us try for the best: Cowards make speech apace; Stripes prove the man: Have now at thy face! Keep off, if thou can.

[And then he must strike at him, and Thersites must run away, and leave his club and sword behind.

Why, thou lubber, runnest thou away, And leavest thy sword and club thee behind? Now this is a sure card: now I may well say, That a coward craking here I did find. Masters, ye may see by this play in sight, That great barking dogs do not most bite. And oft it is seen that the best men in the host Be not such that use to brag most. If ye will avoid the danger of confusion, Print my words in heart, and mark this conclusion: Such gifts of God, that ye excel in most, Use them with soberness, and yourself never boast; Seek the laud of God in all that ye do: So shall virtue and honour come you to. But if you give your minds to the sin of pride, Vanish shall your virtue, your honour away will slide. For pride is hated of God above, And meekness soonest obtaineth his love. To your rulers and parents be you obedient, Never transgressing their lawful commandment. Be ye merry and joyful at board and at bed: Imagine no traitory against your prince and head. Love God, and fear him, and after him your king, Which is as victorious as any is living. Pray for his grace, with hearts that doth not feign, That long he may rule us without grief or pain. Beseech ye also that God may save his queen. Lovely Lady Jane, and the prince that he hath sent them between,[613] To augment their joy and the Commons' felicity! Fare ye well, sweet audience, God grant you all prosperity.

AMEN.