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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. I have bobbed 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'll tell you what I say of him.

Achil. What?

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

[AJAX offers to strike him.

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 Ajax. O, thou damned cur! I shall

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

there.

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.

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. Even 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: he 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 war.

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!

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.

Patr. A good riddance.

[Exit.

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed 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

7 -ere YOUR grandsires had nails on their toes,] The quartos and folio read, "their grandsires," which, as Theobald pointed out, must be an error: the words on their toes are only in the folio.

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8 No more words, Thersites; peace!] The quartos only have “peace !” when Achilles' BRACH-] Printed brooch in all the old copies till the time of Rowe. "Brach" is dog. See Vol. iii. p. 108, and Vol. iv. p. 288. The Rev. Mr. Barry would adhere to brooch, as a thing worn about the neck, but we think Rowe right.

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- by the FIFTH hour of the sun,] So the folio: the quartos have it "first hour." It appears by what Thersites says on p. 84, that fifth hour is right.

Maintain-I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.
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, expence,

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 spungy 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 searches2
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes3,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,

2 the TENT that searches] "Tent" is a surgical term, used both as a verb and substantive to tent a wound is to search it.

:

-'mongst many thousand DISMES,] i. e. tenths, a word which Shakespeare might have found in Holinshed, but which is not of very ordinary occurrence.

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.

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

So great as our dread father, in a scale

Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite?

And buckle in a waist most fathomless,

With spans and inches so diminutive

As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame!

Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother

priest:

You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your rea

sons:

You know, an enemy intends you harm,
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove1,

Or like a star dis-orb'd?-Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts", would they but fat their
thoughts

With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect

4 And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,] In all the folio impressions this line is misplaced after the next: the quarto editions print the passage as we have given it.

5 Should have HARE hearts,] So the quartos: the folio, "hard hearts," clearly an error. Again, farther on, the folio misprints "made idolatry" for "mad idolatry" of the quartos.

Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost. The holding.

Tro.

What is aught, but as 'tis valued?

Hect. But value dwells not in particular will;

It holds his estimate and dignity,

As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,
As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry,
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is inclinable"
To what infectiously itself affects,

Without some image of th' affected merit.

Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion

To blench from this', and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,

When we have soil'd them'; nor the remainder viands

We do not throw in unrespective sieve,

Because we now are full. It was thought meet,
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath of full consent' bellied his sails;
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd;
And for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held captive,
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh-

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ness

that is INCLINABLE] So the folio, instead of the less intelligible word, attributice, of the quartos. It could not have been a misprint, and "inclinable" may have been deliberately preferred. Pope was in favour of the folio reading, and Johnson of that of the quartos.

7 TO BLENCH from this,] i. e. to start away from this. See p. 14, note 4.

8 When we have SOIL'D them ;] The folio, "spoil'd them." In the next line

the folio misprints same for " sieve" of the quartos.

9 Your breath or full consent-] The quartos read, "with full consent."

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