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.