By God's passion, knaves, if I come, I will you fetter: Regard ye my calling and crying no better? Why, whoresons, I say, will ye not come? By the mass, the knaves be all from home: They had better have fet me an errand at Rome. MILES. By my troth, I think that very scant This lubber dare adventure to fight with an ant. THERSITES. Well, seeing my servants come to me will not, I must take heed that this monster me spill not; I will jeopard with it a joint, And other with my club or my sword's point I will reach it such wounds, As I would not have for forty thousand pounds. Pluck in thy horns, thou unhappy beast; What, facest thou me? wilt not thou be in rest? Why, will not thou thy horns in hold? Thinkest thou that I am a cuckold? God's arms, the monster cometh toward me still, Except I fight manfully, it will me surely kill! [_Then he must fight against the snail with his club_. MILES. O Jupiter Lord, dost thou not see and hear, How he feareth the snail, as it were a bear! THERSITES. Well, with my club I have had good luck; Now with my sword have at thee a pluck! [_And he must cast his club away_. I will make thee, ere I go, for to duck, And thou were as tall a man as Friar Tuck. I say yet again, thy horns in draw, Or else I will make thee to have wounds raw. Art thou not afeard To have thy beard Pared with my sword? [_Here he must fight then with his sword against the snail, and the snail draweth her horns in_. Ah well, now no more: Thou mightest have done so before. I laid at it so sore, That it thought it should have be lore[596] And it had not drawn in his horns again, Surely I would the monster have slain. But now, farewell, I will work thee no more pain. Now my fume is past, And doth no longer last, That I did to the monster cast. Now in other countries both far and near Mo deeds of chivalry I will go inquire. MILES. Thou needst not seek any further, for ready I am here: I will debate anon, I trow, thy bragging cheer. THERSITES. [_Not hearing him_. Now where is any mo that will me assail? I will turn him and toss him, both top and tail; If he be stronger than Samson was, Who with his bare hands killed lions apace. MILES. What needeth this boast? I am here at hand, That with thee will fight; keep thy head, and stand! Surely for all thy high words I will not fear To assay thee a touch, till some blood appear; I will give thee somewhat for the gift of a new year. [_And he beginneth to fight with him, but Thersites must run away, and hide him behind his mother's back, saying_: THERSITES. O mother, mother, I pray thee me hide: Throw something over me, and cover me every side. MATER. O my son, what thing eldeth[597] thee? THERSITES. Mother, a thousand horsemen do persecute me. MATER. Marry, son, then it was time to fly; I blame thee not, then, though afraid thou be. A deadly wound thou mightst there soon catch: One against so many is no indifferent[598] match. THERSITES.