THERSITES.
Ye say truth, mother; well, let all this go,
And make you ready Ulysses to go to
With me anon; be ye so content?
MATER.
I am well pleased; to your will I assent,
For, although that I love him but very evil,
It is good to set a candle before the devil.
Of most part of great men, I swear by this fire,
Light is the thank, but heavy is the ire.
Farewell, son, I will go me to prepare.
THERSITES.
Mother, God 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 God'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 cushion 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, God'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 shells:
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 Nevermass,
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 God 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 buttocks 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,
God 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 God 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: