And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,- Cas. [within] Cry, Trojans, cry! Pri. What noise? what shriek is this? Tro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. Cas. [within] Cry, Trojans! Hect. It is Cassandra. Enter CASSANDRA, raving. Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. Hect. Peace, sister, peace! Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld,(52) Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit. Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in our sister work Some touches of remorse? or is your blood So madly hot, that no discourse of reason, Can qualify the same? Tro. VOL. VI. Why, brother Hector, D We may not think the justness of each act Par. Else might the world convince of levity Pri. Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, Now to deliver her possession up On terms of base compulsion! Can it be That so degenerate a strain as this Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? There's not the meanest spirit on our party Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw, When Helen is defended; nor none so noble Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; The reasons you allege do more conduce "Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge Of any true decision. Nature craves If this law All dues be render'd to their owners: now, If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king,— Of nature and of nations speak aloud To have her back return'd: thus to persist In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion My spritely brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance Upon our joint and several dignities. Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds; Hect. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before ACHILLES' tent. Enter THERSITES. Ther. How now, Thersites! what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me: 'sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles,-a rare enginer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus; if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-aimed(54) ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache !(55) for that, methinks, is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil envy say Amen. --What, ho! my Lord Achilles! Enter PATROCLUS. Patr. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. -Where's Achilles? Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? Achil. Who's there? Enter ACHILLES. Patr. Thersites, my lord. Achil. Where, where?—Art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come,-what's Agamemnon? Ther. Thy commander, Achilles.-Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? Patr. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself? Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? Patr. Thou mayst tell that knowest. Achil. O, tell, tell. Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool. Patr. You rascal! Ther. Peace, fool! I have not done. Achil. He is a privileged man.-Proceed, Thersites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. |