Then a whale to a whelk we have
swallowed
the King of
England.
England.
Tennyson
To drag us into them.
Fishermen?
devils!
Who, while ye fish for men with your false fires,
Let the great Devil fish for your own souls.
ROLF. Nay then, we be liker the blessed Apostles; _they_ were fishers
of men, Father Jean says.
HAROLD. I had liefer that the fish had swallowed me,
Like Jonah, than have known there were such devils.
What's to be done?
[_To his_ MEN--_goes apart with them_.
FISHERMAN. Rolf, what fish did swallow Jonah?
ROLF. A whale!
FISHERMAN.
Then a whale to a whelk we have swallowed the King of
England. I saw him over there. Look thee, Rolf, when I was down in the
fever, _she_ was down with the hunger, and thou didst stand by her and
give her thy crabs, and set her up again, till now, by the patient
Saints, she's as crabb'd as ever.
ROLF. And I'll give her my crabs again, when thou art down again.
FISHERMAN. I thank thee, Rolf. Run thou to Count Guy; he is hard at
hand. Tell him what hath crept into our creel, and he will fee thee as
freely as he will wrench this outlander's ransom out of him--and why
not? for what right had he to get himself wrecked on another man's
land?
ROLF. Thou art the human-heartedest, Christian-charitiest of all
crab-catchers. Share and share alike!
[_Exit_.
HAROLD (_to_ FISHERMAN).
Fellow, dost thou catch crabs?
Who, while ye fish for men with your false fires,
Let the great Devil fish for your own souls.
ROLF. Nay then, we be liker the blessed Apostles; _they_ were fishers
of men, Father Jean says.
HAROLD. I had liefer that the fish had swallowed me,
Like Jonah, than have known there were such devils.
What's to be done?
[_To his_ MEN--_goes apart with them_.
FISHERMAN. Rolf, what fish did swallow Jonah?
ROLF. A whale!
FISHERMAN.
Then a whale to a whelk we have swallowed the King of
England. I saw him over there. Look thee, Rolf, when I was down in the
fever, _she_ was down with the hunger, and thou didst stand by her and
give her thy crabs, and set her up again, till now, by the patient
Saints, she's as crabb'd as ever.
ROLF. And I'll give her my crabs again, when thou art down again.
FISHERMAN. I thank thee, Rolf. Run thou to Count Guy; he is hard at
hand. Tell him what hath crept into our creel, and he will fee thee as
freely as he will wrench this outlander's ransom out of him--and why
not? for what right had he to get himself wrecked on another man's
land?
ROLF. Thou art the human-heartedest, Christian-charitiest of all
crab-catchers. Share and share alike!
[_Exit_.
HAROLD (_to_ FISHERMAN).
Fellow, dost thou catch crabs?
