Now I go hence, and put myself in prease:[584] I will seek adventures; yea, and that I will not cease. If there be any present here this night, That will take upon them with me to fight, Let them come quickly, and the battle shall be pight. Where is Cacus, that knave not worth a groat, That was wont to blow clouds out of his throat; Which stole Hercules kine, and hid them in his cave? Come hither, Cacus, thou lubber and false knave: I will teach all wretches by thee to beware! If thou come hither, I trap thee in a snare; Thou shalt have knocked bread and ill-fare. How say you, good godfather, that look so stale, Ye seem a man to be born in the vale? 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? God 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 lusty 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.