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 To answer such a question: Stand again: Achil. I tell thee, yea. Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Ajax. 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. Hect. Thy hand upon that match. Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; • Forename. + Stitby is a smith's shop, Inclination. There in the full convive* we: afterwards, Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither? Ulyss. You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence? 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. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. Enter Achilles and Patroclus. Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow,- Patr. Here comes Thersites. Enter Thersites, How now, thou core of envy? A chil. 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! Ther. Finch-egg! Achil, My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. * Contrariety. VOL. VII. EE + Coarse, unwrought. Here is a letter from queen Hecuba; A token from her daughter, my fair love; An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, There, where we see the lights. Hect. Ajax. No, not a whit. Stuffed. No, yonder 'tis ; I trouble you. Here comes himself to guide you. * Harlots. + Menelaus. § Polecat. 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. Hect. 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 Hector. Hect. Give me your hand. Ulyss. Follow his torch, he goes [Aside to Troilus. And so good night. Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me. Hec. [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. |