"Now thou wilt have to put away thy sloth, thou milk-sop."

Says Grettir, "Ill is it to goad the foolhardy."

Asmund answers, "Thou wilt ever be a good-for-nought."

Now Grettir sees where, in one of the seats stood wool-combs: one of these he caught up, and let it go all down Asmund's back. He sprang up, and was mad wroth thereat; and was going to smite Grettir with his staff, but he ran off. Then came the housewife, and asked what was this to-do betwixt them. Then Grettir answered by this ditty—

"This jewel-strewer, O ground of gold,

(His counsels I deem over bold),

On both these hands that trouble sow,

(Ah bitter pain) will burn me now;

[31]

Therefore with wool-comb's nails unshorn