A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume I Part 74
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Dare ye adventure with me a stripe or two?
Go, coward, go, hide thee as thou wast wont to do!
What a sort of dastards have we here!
None of you to battle with me dare appear.
What say you, heart of gold, of countenance so demure?
Will you fight with me? no, I am right sure.
Fye, blush not, woman, I will do you no harm, Except I had you sooner to keep my back warm.
Alas, little pums, why are ye so sore afraid?
I pray you show how long it is, since ye were a maid?
Tell me in mine ear; sirs, she hath me told That gone was her maidenhead at thrusteen[585] year old!
By lady, she was loth to keep it too long: _And I were a maid again_[586] now may be here song.[587]
Do after my counsel of maidens the whole bevy, Quickly rid your maidenheads, for they are vengeance heavy, Well, let all go: why, will none come in With me to fight, that I may pare his skin?
[_The Mater cometh in_.
MATER
What say you, my son, will ye fight? G.o.d it defend!
For what cause to war do you now pretend?
Will ye commit to battles dangerous Your life that is to me so precious?
THERSITES.
I will go, I will go; stop not my way!
Hold me not, good mother, I heartily you pray.
If there be any lions or other wild beast, That will not suffer the husbandman in rest, I will go seech them, and bid them to a feast: They shall aby bitterly the coming of such a guest.
I will search for them both in bush and shrub, And lay on a load with this l.u.s.ty club.
MATER.
O my sweet son, I am thy mother; Wilt thou kill me, and thou hast none other?
THERSITES.
No, mother, no, I am not of such iniquity, That I will defile my hands upon thee.
But be content, mother, for I will not rest Till I have fought with some man or wild beast.
MATER.
Truly, my son, if that ye take this way, This shall be the conclusion, mark what I shall say.
Other I will drown myself for sorrow, And feed fishes with my body before to-morrow, Or with a sharp sword surely I will me kill: Now thou mayst save me, if it be thy will.
I will also cut my paps away, That gave thee suck so many a day; And so in all the world it shall be known, That by my own son I was overthrown.
Therefore, if my life be to thee pleasant, That which I desire, good son, do me grant.
THERSITES.
Mother, thou spendest thy wind but in waste; The G.o.ddess 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 G.o.d 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.
MATER.
My own sweet son, I, kneeling on my knee, And both my hands holding up to thee, Desire thee to cease, and no battle make: Call to thee patience, and better ways take.
THERSITES.
Tush, mother, I am deaf; I will thee not hear.
No, no, if Jupiter here himself now were, And all the G.o.ds, and Juno his wife, And loving Minerva that abhorreth all strife: If all these, I say, would desire me to be content, They did their wind but in vain spent;[588]
I will have battle in Wales or in Kent, And some of the knaves I will all-to rent.[589]
Where is the valiant knight, Sir Isenbras?
Appear, sir, I pray you, dare ye not show your face?
Where is Robin John and Little Hood?[590]
Approach hither quickly, if ye think it good; I will teach such outlaws with Christ's curses, How they take hereafter away abbots' purses.
Why, will no adventure appear in this place?
Where is Hercules with his great mace?
Where is Busiris, that fed his horses Full like a tyrant with dead men's corses?[591]
Come, any of you both, And I make an oath, That ere I eat any bread, I will drive a wain, Yea, for need twain, Between your body and your head.
This[592] pa.s.seth my brains; Will none take the pains To try with me a blow?
Oh, what a fellow am I, Whom every man doth fly, That doth me but once know!
MATER.
Son, all do you fear, That be present here; They will not with you fight.
You, as you be worthy, Have now the victory Without tasting of your might.
Here is none, I trow, That proffereth you a blow: Man, woman, nor child.
Do not set your mind To fight with the wind: Be not so mad nor wild.
THERSITES.
I say, arise, whosoever will fight: I am to battle here ready-dight.
Come hither, other swain or knight; Let me see who dare present him to my sight!
Here with my club ready I stand, If any will come to take them in hand.
MATER.
There is no hope left in my breast To bring my son into better rest: He will do nothing at my request; He regardeth me no more than a beast.
I see no remedy; but still I will pray To G.o.d my son to guide in his way; That he may have a prosperous journeying, And to be safe at his returning.
Son, G.o.d above grant this my oration That, when in battle thou shalt have concertation With your enemies, other far or near, No wound in them nor in you may appear, So that ye nother kill nor be killed.
A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume I Part 74
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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume I Part 74 summary
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