utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones: This lord, Achilles, Ajax,-who wears his wit in his belly, instead of his head, I'll tell you what I say of him. Achilles. What? Thersites. I say this, Ajax———— Achilles. Nay, good Ajax. [AJAX offers to strike him, ACHILLES interposes. Thersites. Has not so much wit Achilles. Nay, I must hold you. Thersites. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. Achilles. Peace, fool! Thersites. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there; that he; look you there. Ajax. O thou cur! I shall Achilles. Will you set your wit to a fool's? Thersites. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it. Patroclus. Good words, Thersites. Achilles. What's the quarrel? Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go, learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. Thersites. I serve thee not. Ajax. Well, go to, go to. Thersites. I serve here voluntary. Achilles. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. Thersites. Even so?-a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; 'a were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. Achilles. What, with me too, Thersites? Thersites. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy, ere your grandsires had nails on their toes,— yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars. Achilles. What, what? Thersites. Yes, good sooth; to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to! Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. Thersites. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. Patroclus. No more words, Thersites; peace. Thersites. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? Achilles. There's for you, Patroclus. Thersites. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. Patroclus. A good riddance. [Exit. Achilles. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host: That Hector, by the first hour of the sun, Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy, Achilles. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise, He knew his man. Ajax. O, meaning you: I'll go learn more of it. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-TROY. A Room in PRIAM's Palace. Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS. As honour, loss of time, travel, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd In hot digestion of this cormorant war,— Shall be struck off:-Hector, what say you to't? Hector. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, As far as toucheth my particular, yet, Dread Priam, 9 Bitch, hound. There is no lady of more softer bowels, More ready to cry out- Who knows what follows? The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches Troilus. Fye, fye, my brother! Of common ounces? will you with counters sum And buckle-in a waist most fathomless, With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? fye, for godly shame! Helenus. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father priest, You fur your gloves with reason. sons: Here are your rea You know, an enemy intends you harm; 1 Tenths. And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorb'd?-Nay, if we talk of reason, Hector. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding. Troilus. What is aught, but as 'tis valued? Hector. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry, To make the service greater than the god; Troilus. I take to-day a wife, and my election, Because we now are full. It was thought meet, ness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. 2 Caution. 4 Priam's sister, Hesione. 3 Shrink, or fly off. Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, What noise? what shriek is this? Troilus. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. Cassandra. [Within.] Cry, Trojans ! Hector. It is Cassandra, Enter CASSANDRA, raving. Cassandra. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetick tears. Hector. Peace, sister, peace. Cassandra. Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled elders, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! [Exit. |