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: