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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?
That I may give the local wound a name;
And make distinct the very breach whereout
Hector's great spirit flew: Answer me, heavens !
Hect. It would discredit the bless'd gods, proud

To answer such a question: Stand again:
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate* in nice conjecture,
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

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


• Forename.

+ Stitby is a smith's shop,
§ Petty.


There in the full convive* we afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally entreat him.—
Beat loud the tabourines +, let the trumpets blow,
That this great soldier may his welcome know.
[Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses.
Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?

Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.

Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,

After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither?


As gentle tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy?
That wails her absence?

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,-
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Patr. Here comes Thersites.

* Feast.

+ Small drums.

Enter Thersites,

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.
Patr. Who keeps the tent now?

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!

Ther. Finch-egg!

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 ;
A token from her daughter, my fair love;
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honour, or go, or stay ;
My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.--
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent:
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus. [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus.

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.

+ Stuffed.

No, yonder 'tis;

I trouble you.

Here comes himself to guide you.

* Harlots.

§ Polecat.

+ Menelaus.

A diseased beggar.

Enter Achilles.

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.
Agam. Good night.

[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.

* Privy.

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