Volume I Part 72 (1/2)

_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 h.e.l.l, 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 G.o.d of fire, Smith unto Jupiter, king over all: Come forth of thy office, I thee desire, And grant me my pet.i.tion, I ask a thing but small.

I will none of thy lightning, that thou art wont to make For the G.o.ds supernal, for ire when they do shake; With which they thrust the giants down to h.e.l.l 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 G.o.d 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.