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Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not,
The lustre of the better shall exceed,
By showing the worst first. Do not consent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet;
For both our honour and our shame, in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange followers.
Nest. I see them not with


what are
Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were better parch in Africk sun,
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Should he 'scape Hector fair : If he were foil'd,
Why, then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery;
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: Among ourselves,
Give him allowance for the better man,
For that will physick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends,
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: If he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still,
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,–
Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.

Nest. Ulysses,

Now I begin to relish thy advice;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon: go we to bim straight.
Two curs shall tame each other; Pride alone
16 Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.

Another Part of the Grecian Camp.


Ajax. Thersites,

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils? full, all over, generally?

Ajar. Thersites,

Ther. And those boils did run?-Say so,—did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core?

Ajar. Dog,-
Ther. Then would come some matter from him; I

see none now.

Ajar. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not heard Feel then.

[Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mon. grel beef-witted lord!

Ajar. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou; a red murrain o'thy jade's tricks!

Ajar. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.

Ther, Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus ?

Ajax, The proclamation,

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.
Ajar. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.

Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another.

Ajax. I say, the proclamation,

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou bark'st at him.

Ajar. Mistress Thersites!
Ther. Thou should'st strike him.
Ajur. Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. Ajar. You whoreson cur!

[Beating him. Ther. Do, do. Ajar. Thou stool for a witch!

Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! 'thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows'; an assinego may tutor thee: Thou scurvy valiant ass! thou art here put to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any.wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou !

Ajar. You dog!
Ther. You scurvy lord!
Ajar. You cur!

[Beating him.

Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUB. Achil. Why, how now, Ajax; wherefore do you

thus ?
How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man?

Ther. You see him there, do you?
Achil. Ay; what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.
Achil. So I do; What's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. Well, why I do so.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him : for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achil. I know that, fool.
Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajar. Therefore I beat thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain, more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax,—who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, - I'll tell you what I say of him.

Achil. What?
Ther. I say, this Ajax-
Achil, Nay, good Ajax.

(Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes. Ther. Has not so much wit

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