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There is a mystery (with whom relation
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector ?
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
Patr. O, then beware;
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus :
Ther. A wonder!
Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.
Achil. How so?
Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.
Achil, How can that be?
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride, and a stand : ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who
should say—there, were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is ; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not shew without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain. glory. He knows not me : I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think
you of this man, that takes me for the general ? He's grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.
Achil. Thou must be my embassador to him, Thersites.
651 Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer no body: he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
Achil. To him, Patroclus : Tell him.--I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm’d to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honour'd captaingeneral of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.
663 Patr. Jove bless great Ajax ! Ther. Hum ! Patr. I come from the worthy' Achilles. Ther. Ha!
Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent.
Ther. Agamemnon ?
Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other ; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
you well, with all my heart,
Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not : But, I am sure, none ; unless the fidler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.
Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature.
691 Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt ACHILLES, and PATROCLUS, Ther. ?Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
A Street in Troy. Enter at one Door Æneas, and Sere
vant, with a Torch ; at another, Paris, DeIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMED, &c. with Torches.
Paris. See, ho! who is that there ?
Dei. It is the lord Æneas.
Æne. Is the prince there in person ?-
Æne. Health to you, valiant sir,
Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.