Volume I Part 79 (1/2)

Farewell, son, I will go me to prepare.

THERSITES.

Mother, G.o.d 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 G.o.d'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 cus.h.i.+on 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, G.o.d'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 sh.e.l.ls: 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 Neverma.s.s, 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 G.o.d 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 b.u.t.tocks 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, G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, that ye excel in most, Use them with soberness, and yourself never boast; Seek the laud of G.o.d in all that ye do: So shall virtue and honour come you to.