Apparently “what ho!” is a corruption of Beowulf’s “hwaet!”??
Now need a P.G. Wodehouse translation of Beowulf.
What ho! Have you heard of these chaps,
Dashed good fellows with a spear and whatnot–What-ho! You are no doubt familiar with a certain strain of Danish chappie—your good Jutlander, or in point of fact, the Spear-Dane—and with more examples than I need to relate of the sort of thing they and their chieftains used to get up to.
But to take a single exemplar of the breed—what Gussie might call a type specimen, were we discussing newts, as we generally are when Gussie has come to the metrop.—consider a cove who was called Shield, the Spear-Dane being even keener on simple descriptive appellations than the average Etonian, and Son of Sheaf, said cove being a foundling and rather short on surnames.
Despite this unpropitious beginning, this Shield Sheafsson, as he grew up, graduated from knocking blighters off of barstools to permitting them to retain their seats and, once word had spread around the Baltic of the size and bellicosity of his fellows, raking in the ready for this favor. An all-round good sort and a good king, was the Danes’ verdict.
Now this Shield’s son was a good chap too, well-liked by all. Jeeves would be able to tell you if the Danes were wont to express enthusiasm by chucking rolls at a fellow, like the Drones. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. At any rate, when he had shuffled off this mortal coil, his son took over, and so on, until Hrothgar became king (rum names these fellows had, but I suppose it’s better than being called Shield, which must have been muddling, shields being very much in evidence in those days.) Still, into every life, as they say, some rain must fall and all that, and the Danes had a bit of a rough time of it under Hrothgar.
This wasn’t because Hrothgar was slack at the business of kinging it, or that the Danes took against him. No, general consensus was that he gave a good dinner and was the sort of chap you could rely on to forget when he’d loaned you money in a pinch. But the parties he hosted could get a bit riotous and, well, one thing led to another. I myself could tell a tale of a policeman’s helmet… but that’s by the by. The point is that there was a creature called Grendel, generally given to stalking marshes and similar uncheerful activities. A bit like Banquo’s ghost or my own Aunt Agatha, always popping up when least wanted.
(via feltelures)
