Читать книгу Poetry - John Skelton - Страница 24

In the parysshe of Dys, whereas Skelton was person, there dwelled a cobler, beyng halfe a souter, which was a tall man and a greate slouen, otherwyse named a slouche. The kynges maiestye hauynge warres byyonde the sea, Skelton sayd to thys aforsayd doughtie man, Neybour, you be a tall man, and in the kynges warres you must bere a standard. A standerd! said the cobler, what a thing is that? Skelton saide, It is a great banner, such a one as thou dooest vse to beare in Rogacyon weeke; and a lordes, or a knyghtes, or a gentlemannes armes shall bee vpon it; and the souldiers that be vnder the aforesayde persons fayghtynge vnder thy banner. Fayghtynge! sayde the cobbeler; I can no skil in faighting. No, said Skelton, thou shalte not fayght, but holde vp, and aduaunce the banner. By my fay, sayd the cobler, I can no skill in the matter. Well, sayd Skelton, there is no reamedie but thou shalte forthe to dooe the kynges seruice in hys warres, for in all this countrey theare is not a more likelier manne to dooe suche a[142] feate as thou arte. Syr, sayde the cobbeler, I wyll geue you a fatte capon, that I maye bee at home. No, sayde Skelton, I wyll not haue none of thy capons; for thou shalte doe the kyng seruice in his wars. Why, sayd the cobler, what shuld I doo? wyll you haue me to goe in the kynges warres, and to bee killed for my labour? then I shall be well at ease, for I shall haue my mendes in my nown handes. What, knaue, sayd Skelton, art thou a cowarde, hauyng so great bones? No, sayde the cobler, I am not afearde: it is good to slepe in a whole skinne. Why, said Skelton, thou shalte bee harnessed to keepe away the strokes from thy skynne. By my fay, sayde the cobler, if I must needes forthe, I will see howe yehe shall bee ordered. Skelton dyd harnesse the doughtye squirell, and dyd put an helmet on his head; and when the helmet was on the coblers heade, the cobler sayde, What shall those hoales serue for? Skelton sayd, Holes to looke out to see thy enemyes. Yea, sayde the cobler, then am I in worser case then euer I was; for then one may come and thrust a nayle into one of the holes, and prycke out myne eye. Therfore, said the cobler to Master Skelton, I wyll not goe to warre: my wyfe shall goe in my steade, for she can fyghte and playe the deuell wyth her distaffe, and with stole, staffe, cuppe, or candlesticke; for, by my fay, I cham sicke; I chill go home to bed; I thinke I shall dye.