I am yours, Hect. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-THE GRECIAN CAMP. Before Enter THERSITES. Ther. How now, Thersites! what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles,-a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus; if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-aimed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil envy say Amen.-What, ho! my Lord Achilles ! Enter PATROCLUS. Patr. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen,-Where's Achilles? Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? Enter ACHILLES. Achil. Who's there? Patr. Thersites, my lord. Achil. Where, where?-Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come,-what's Agamemnon? Ther. Thy commander, Achilles :-then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? Patr. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself? Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? Patr. Thou mayest tell that knowest. Achil. O, tell, tell. Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool. Patr. You rascal! Ther. Peace, fool! I have not done. Achil. He is a privileged man.-Proceed, Thersites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. Achil. Derive this; come. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive. Patr. Why am I a fool? Ther. Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me thou art.-Look you, who comes here? Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody.-Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit. Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery! all the argument is a cuckold and a whore; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all! [Exit, Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, Agam. Where is Achilles? Patr. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord. Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think Patr. Exit. Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: but why, why? let him show us the cause.—A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON aside. Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. Nest. Who, Thersites? Ulyss. He. Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument. Ulyss. No; you see, he is his argument that has his argument,-Achilles. Nest. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction. But it was a strong composure a fool could disunite. Ulyss. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. Nest. No Achilles with him. Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. Re-enter PATROCLUS. Patr. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry, Agam. Much attribute he hath; and much the reason Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin And under-honest; in self-assumption greater Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself Patr. I shall; and bring his answer presently. Ajax. What is he more than another? [Exit. [Exit ULYSSES. Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am? Agam. No question. Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is? Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is. Agam. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed devours the deed in the praise. Ajax. I do hate a proud man as I hate the engendering of toads. Nest. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange? Re-enter ULYSSES. Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. [Aside. Agam. What's his excuse? Ulyss. He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request, Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, And batters down himself: what should I say? Agam. Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! Enter his thoughts,-save such as do revolve No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord By going to Achilles : That were to enlard his fat-already pride, And add more coals to Cancer when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion. This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid; And say in thunder, Achilles go to him. Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. [Aside. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! [Aside. Ajax. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face. Agam. O, no, you shall not go. Ajax. An 'a be proud with me I'll pheeze his pride: Let me go to him. |