me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this. Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. Ther. Humph! Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles, - Patr. Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent! Ther. Humph! Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga memnon. Ther. Agamemnon? Patr. Ay, my lord. Ther. Ha! Patr. What say you to't? Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart. Patr. Your answer, sir. Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. Patr. Your answer, sir. Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings* on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capablet creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it. [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant igno rance. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I. Troy. A street. Enter, at one side, Æneas and Servant, with a torch; at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, Diomedes, and others, with torches. Par. See, ho! who's that there? Dei. 'Tis the lord Æneas. Æne. Is the prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long, As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company. Dio. That's my mind too. Good morrow, lord Æneas. Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand: Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. *Lute.strings made of catgut. + Intelligent. Ene. Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce: Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly Dio. We sympathise:-Jove, let Æneas live, not. Ane. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know To Calchas' house; and there to render him, * Conversation. Ene. That I assure you; Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Than Cressid borne from Troy. Par. The bitter disposition of the time There is no help; [Exit. Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. Ene. Good morrow, all. Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, Myself, or Menelaus? Dio. Both alike: He merits well to have her, that doth seek her With such a hell of pain, and world of charge; Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. ris, For every false drop in her bawdy veins [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. Court before the house of Pandarus. Enter Troilus and Cressida. Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He shall unbolt the gates. Trouble him not; To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes, As infants' empty of all thought! Cres. Tro. Pr'ythee now, to bed. Cres. Good morrow then, Are you aweary of me? Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald* crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. Cres. Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays, As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me. Cres. You men will never tarry. Pr'ythee, tarry; O foolish Cressid! -I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. Pan. [Within.] What, are all the doors open here? * Lewd, noisy. |