SCENE I-Another part of the Grecian Camp.

Enter AJAX and THERSITES.

Ajax. Thersites

Ther. Agamemnon

Ajax. Thersites

Ther. Did not the general run?

Ajax. Dog-canst thou not hear? Feel then.

[Strikes him.

witted lord!

Ajax. Speak then, thou vinewdst leaven,1 speak: I will beat

thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a

prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks!

Ajax. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.

Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus ? Ajax. The proclamation—

Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.

Ajur. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee. I would make thee the loathsomest in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another.

Ajax. I say, the proclamation

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.

Ajax. Mistress Thersites !

Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.

Ajax. Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pun thee into shivers 2 with his fist, as a

sailor breaks a biscuit.

Ajax. You cur!

Ther. Do, do.

[Beating him.

Ajax. Thou stool for a witch!

Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego3 may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but to thrash Trojans ; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels,

thou!

Ajax. You dog!

Ther. You scurvy lord!

Ajax. You cur!

[Beating him.

Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Achil. Why, how now,

Ajax! wherefore do you

thus?

How now, Thersites ! what's the matter, man?

Ther. You see him there, do you?
Achil. Ay; what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.

Achil. So I do; what's the matter?

Ther. Nay, but regard him well.

Achil. Well! why I do so.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achil. I know that, fool.

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long.

for a

I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax-who wears his wit in his belly-I'll tell you what I say of him.

Achil. What?

Ther. I say, this Ajax—
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

[AJAX offers to strike him, ACHILLES interposes.

Ther. Has not so much wit—

Achil. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he

comes to fight.

Achil. Peace, fool!

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not:

he there; that he; look you there.

Ajax. O thou cur! I shall

Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's?

Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it.

Patr. Good words, Thersites.

Achil. What's the quarrel?

Ajax. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.

Ajax. Well, go to, go to.

Ther. I serve here voluntary.

Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.

Ther. E'en so;—a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch if he knock out either of your brains; 'a were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Thersites ?

Ther. There's Ulysses and old Nestor-whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes-yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars.

Achil. What, what?

Ther. Yes, good sooth. To, Achilles! to, Ajax! to!

Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou, afterwards. Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace!

4

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me,

shall I ?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

[Exit.

Patr. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host :
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,

Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare
Maintain-I know not what; 'tis trash: farewell.

S

Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him?
Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise,
He knew his man.

Ajax. O, meaning you :-I will go learn more of it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Troy. A Room in PRIAM's Palace.
Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS; and HELENUS.
Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches 'spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks :—
'Deliver Helen, and all damage else―
As honour, loss of time, travail, expense,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war—

Shall be struck off:'-Hector, what say you to 't?
Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,
As far as toucheth my particular, yet, dread Priam,
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out—'Who knows what follows?'
Than Hector is. The wound of peace
is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 5
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up?

Tro.

Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
Fie, fie, my brother!