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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 witAchilles. 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.
T'hersites. 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' bracho bids me,

shall I? Achilles. There's for


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. [Exit.

Patroclus. A good riddance.
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,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one, that dare
Maintain—I know not what; 'tis trash: Farewell.

Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him?

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.



Priam. After so many hours, lives, speeches, spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: Deliver Helen, and all damage elseAs 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,

to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out— Who knows what follows ?
Than Hector is : The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call’d
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.

Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean of ours
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours; not worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason, which denies
The yielding of her up?

Fye, fye, my brother!
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
So great as our dread father, in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite?
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 rea-

sons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? Troilus. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother,

priest, You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your rea


You know, an enemy intends you harm;
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm:
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels;

1 Tenths.

And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorb'd!—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates and sleep: Manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

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;
And the will dotes, that is attributive
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.

Troilus. I take to-day a wife, and my election,
Is led on in the conduct of my will:
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment: How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks


the merchant, When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet, Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath with full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd; And, for an old aunt,* whom the Greeks held captive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh


Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. 2 Caution.

3 Shrink, or ily off. 4 Priam's sister, Hesione.

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Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt:
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went,

As you must needs, for you all cry'd—Go, go,)
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cry'd—Inestimable !) why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea or land? O theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But, thieves unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!

Cassandra. [Within.] Ory, Trojans, cry!

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

And I will fill them with prophetick tears.

Hector. Peace, sister, peace.
Cassandra. Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled

Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears !
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand:
Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe!
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit.

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