Troil. O sir, to such as boasting show their scars, A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth :' But, still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. [Exeunt. She is, and doth] She is beloved and doth love. t V 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.— Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. Patr. Here comes Thersites. Achil. Enter THERSITES. 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.1 Patr. Well said, Adversity! and what need these tricks? 2 Ther. Prithee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet 3 The surgeon's box, &c.] This is said in quibbling reference to tent, as signifying a roll of lint used in probing wounds. 2 Tricks] Peculiar manners. • Varlet] Harlot. 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-ache, 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 sleave-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 water-fliesdiminutives 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. 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: [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. 1 Sleave-silk] Flos-silk. In Macbeth, ii. 1, we have, Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care.' 1 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,2 to what form but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced 3 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.-Heyday! spirits and fires! 3 Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights. Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong. Ajax. No, yonder 't is; there, where we see the lights. Hect. I trouble you. Ajax. No, not a whit. Ulyss. Here comes himself to guide you. Transformation of Jupiter] Likeness of transformed Jupiter. This alludes to the story of Jupiter transforming himself into a bull, and is said in derision of Menelaus as wearing a cuckold's horns. 2 A thrifty shoeing-horn, &c.] Hanging as a thrifty, &c. * Forced] Stuffed. Fr. farcir, Lat. farcire, to stuff, To be, &c.] I would not care to be, &c. Re-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. Hect. Good night, sweet Menelaus. Ther. [Aside.] Sweet draught: sweet, quoth 'a! sweet sink, sweet sewer. Achil. Good night, and welcome, both at once, 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. [Aside to Troil.] Follow his torch, he goes To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. Troil. Sweet sir, you honour me. Hect. And so good night. [Exit DIOMEDES; 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 Brabbler 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 keeps his word. I will rather |