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.