Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech ; Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, shew our foulest wares, 790 By shewing the worst first. Do not consent, For both our honour and our shame, in this, Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; What are they? Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share with him : But he already is too insolent; And we were better parch in Africk sun, Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 800 811 That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Our Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,- Now I begin to relish thy advice; And I will give a taste of it forthwith 820 To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE 1. The Grecian Camp. Enter AJAX, and THERSITES. THER SITES, Ajax. Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils? full, all over, generally? Ajax. Thersites, Ther. And those boils did run!- Say so, did not the general run then; were not that a botchy core ? Ajax. Dog, Ther. Then there would come some matter fro: him; I see none now. 10 Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, 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. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus ? Ajax. The proclamation, Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think. 23 Ajax. 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 scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. 31 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 bark'st at him. Ajax. Mistress Thersites ! Ther. Thou should'st strike him. Ajax. Cobloaf! Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. Ajax. You whoreson cur! 41 [Beating him. Ther. Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou stool for a witch! Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in my elbows; an assinego may tutor thee; Thou scurvy valiant ass! thou art here put 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! 52 Ther. You scurvy lord! Ajax. You cur! [Beating him. Ther. Mars his ideot ! 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. 60 Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. Achil. I know that, fcol. Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. E Ajax. Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 70 Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain, more than he has beat my bones : I will buy nine sparrows for a 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, and his guts in his head,I'l tell you what I say of him. Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 8. [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. Athil. Peace, fool! Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there; that he; look you there. Ajax. O thou damn'd cur! I shall Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? 90 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 tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. Ther. I serve thee not. Ajax. Well, go to, go to. |