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Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him; whether there, there, or there?
To answer such a question: Stand again:
Achil. I tell thee, yea. Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied† Mars his helm, I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag, His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never
Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin ;And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't: You may have every day enough of Hector, If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field; We have had pelting § wars, since you refus'd The Grecians' cause.
Achil. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; To-night, all friends.
Thy hand upon that match. Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my
+ Stitby is a smith's shop,
There in the full convive* we afterwards,
Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
As gentle tell me, of what honour was
You shall command me, sir.
Had she no lover there
Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth : But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.
SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles'
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow,-
+ Small drums.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy? Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Patr. Well said, Adversity*! and what need these tricks?
Ther. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.
Patr. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i'the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!
Patr. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus ?
Ther. Do I curse thee?
Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.
Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleive + silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such waterflies; diminutives of nature!
Patr. Out, gall!
Achil, My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. + Coarse, unwrought.
* Contrariety. VOL. VII.
Here is a letter from queen Hecuba ;
Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two may run mad; but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon,-an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails*; but he has not so much brain as ear-wax: And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,— the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds+; a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,-to what form, but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced‡ with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to an ox, were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew§, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care: but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites ; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar ||, so I were not Menelaus.-Hey-day! spirits and fires!
Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomed, with lights.
Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.
There, where we see the lights.
Ajax. No, not a whit.
No, yonder 'tis;
I trouble you.
Here comes himself to guide you.
A diseased beggar.
Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.
Agam. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night.
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. Hect. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general.
Men. Good night, my lord.
Good night, sweet Menelaus. Ther. Sweet draught*: Sweet, quoth 'a! sweet sink, sweet sewer.
Achil. Good night,
And welcome, both to those that go, or tarry.
[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus. Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two.
Dio. I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now.-Good night, great
Hect. Give me your hand.
Follow his torch, he goes To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.
[Aside to Troilus.
Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me.
And so good night. [Exit Diomed; Ulysses and Troilus following.
Achil. Come, come, enter my tent.
[Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor. Ther. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses: he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it; it is prodigious †, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed + Portentous, ominous.