Hey! By Saint George, are you the most foolish of fools? By my soul, Johnny Woodsman, you have not a thing to your name And you want to keep singing!

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Clinton Mitchell Cooper
6 years ago
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1 The Farce of The Kettle Maker The The The Kettle Maker There once was a man who carried firewood. Hey! By Saint George, are you the most foolish of fools? Ah! My wife, I can see that you wish to subdue me. By my soul, Johnny Woodsman, you have not a thing to your name And you want to keep singing! Is it not better to sing than to cause melancholy? You d do better to console yourself by cobbling up your shoes than To sing foolish songs. You seem quite annoyed! Yell, yes, by Saint Cucklbeau! You swine! You foul mouth! Full of. Shit! On your chin! Did you hear this slut, How gracious she is? But have you heard this bird, how he serenades us with his song? By Jove, I believe she is envious to hear me sing so well. But jealous of hearing your illustrious head bray like an ass! When our sow is ready to bear her piglets and she grunts in her stable, her song is as worthy as yours, no more, no less.

2 Ah! Very well said, Annie dear! And very well said, Willy dear! Come on, strike me! Don t hesitate. By Our Lady, I shan t! If I grab a stick, I ll temper your impertinence. Who? You, big baby? I m quite afraid of you, poor capon, with that fat doublet soiled with dung. Fat doublet! And you, filthy slut, they call you clove. And you the ne er-do-well. You smell like musk. And you like mustard sauce. Foolish wench. Whoremonger! Wench! [hitting] Take that, fat chin! You struck me, you old hag? [hitting back] There! One for your head! Meet this club! And you this one! Should she wish to subdue me? Give up! No, I should rather die! By Saint Mark, this is sorry pain. By Saint Copin, I am all pummeled. Victory and dominance! Power to women now! What blasphemy! But it s even more infamous to waste time listening to your cackling!

3 WIfe Maker To hell with you, and victory to women! Not in everything. In what then? Could it be in cackling or gossiping? By my soul, go tell them: I m a match for any woman in town at cackling and gossiping. That would not surprise me. A woman always wins at cackling. You ll sooner see Lucifer become an angel of salvation than a woman quiet down, cease gabbing, or even try to. Yes she would, damn fathead! What! You d do it, without moving your head? Nor a lip nor an eyelid. I bet two shillings. And I shall supervise this wager! Holy Death, I shan t move. I shall control myself at all times. Well, tell me what to do. Remain seated right here. Without speaking to clerk or priest any more than does a crucifix. And I shall stay quiet in spite of myself and be more peaceful than a Chinese statue. Well said! The loser, smart woman, shall have to pay for a kettle of soup. Quiet! No moves! Kettle maker! Kettles! Kettle maker! Who wants to fix their kettles? It is time to go and cry Kettles! Kettle Maker! Gentlemen, I am such a good craftsman that I can fix two holes for one. Where should I go? Who is there? I m the craftsman. Hey there, hey! Is anybody home? Oh! Yes! By Jove, there are two. God keep you! My lady, would you have a kettle to fix?

4 Can you hear me? Hey! Damsel, talk to me. Is she deaf or is she mad looking at me between the eyes like that? Hey! Damsel! Good god, methinks she s gone mad. And you, my master -sweet thought- would you have a kettle in need of repair? Hey! Sir, are you dumb, deaf, or mad? By George, he doesn t speak yet he looks me in the eyes. But I ll disavow my craft if I don t make him open his mouth. Hey fool! Did you catch a fly between your teeth? Are you playing onlooker? He doesn t move lip or tooth. He looks like a statue of a village Saint Nicolas. Either that, or a Saint Cosme 1. Ha! You shall be the pope of Rome. You ll have some straw for a beard and something in your hand. And here is your diadem, and for a staff, too, you ll have this beautiful spoon. In your other hand, instead of a book, you ll carry this chamber pot. My God, you shall be so handsome! Because you are a most gracious gentleman. Blessed saint, do not laugh! That would spoil the miracle. So he may be better noticed, I want to paint his sweet and precious snout with my two paws which are soft and delicate. Ah! Good God, he shall be so lovely! Saint Cucklebeau, I adore thee. What the devil have they eaten? They don t stir a finger. Hey! My lady of Haudin 2, you are so pretty, may God keep you that way, my little brunette! Hey! I beg you, my sweetheart, speak to me a little and call me your darling and smile. Oh, what conceit! By Jove, I ll make you speak, one of the other, as I please! Ah! By my soul, she resembles Venus, the goddess of love! What a pretty snout! God, what countenance! My sweetheart, let me flatter you. You have such delicate skin. You are patient and sweet. She lets me touch her pleasantly, 1 The Game of Saint Cosme was a popular medieval game. One of the players acted out Saint Cosme. The object of the game was for the others to make the Saint laugh by presenting him with frivolous or absurd offerings. Sometimes the saint would be blindfolded and his face blackened. If the Saint managed to make his worshipper smile, the would exchange places. 2 Haudin either means Hautain (haughty) or the actual place of the scene, which could be Houdain, Haudicourt, or Hesdain in Picardy.

5 everywhere with my nose. Damn, my pretty face, I want to kiss and embrace you! K Maker K Maker May the devil carry you off, you filthy whoremonger! [man attack kettle maker, maybe with one of the things the kettle maker gave him] Ah! My head! He killed me! By Saint John, I am glad. And you ll get more! By Our Lady, you have lost! I was able to control myself! Come here, come, you wench! You do you let such a dirty scoundrel kiss you? Well, to win the bet! Should I have lost by being impatient that s all I have to say. Tis true. Let s go drink. Let s go! But since I won, I demand that the kettle maker accompany us. By my soul, he shall not! And by my soul, he shall, no matter how jealous you are! If that s the way it is, com along. But refrain from kissing! All my bones have been broken. My dear folk who see us here, come and drink to the wager; and tell and remember that the women whom you know have won the prize. Damn! That is the truth! Let us make merry, and go imbibe at the tavern. Come all I beg you, and folk up there and down here share two pot-fulls of wine, and please graciously accept this play. The End

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