And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not, That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are dogg'd with two strange followers. 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 Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, And by device let blockish Ajax draw Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall Yet go we under our voices: if he fail, opinion still, That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. Nest. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice ; And I will give a taste of it forthwith To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part of the Grecian Camp. Enter AJAX and THERSITES. AJAX. THERSITES: Agamemnon-how. if he had boils? Thersites. 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 corps? Ajax. Dog, Ther. Then would come some matter from him: I see none now. Feel then. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou vinew'd'st 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. Toadstool, 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. Ajax. Do not, porpentine, 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.] 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 barkest 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! Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou stool for a witch! [Beating him. Ther. Ay, do, do thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an asinico may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but 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! Ther. You scurvy lord! Ajax. You cur! [Beating him. Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Achilles. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this? How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man? Ther. You see him there, do you? Achil. So I do what's the matter? Ther. Nay, but regard him well. 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. 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'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. 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 there. Ajax. O, thou damn'd cur! I shall Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it. Patroclus. Good words, Thersites. VOL. IX. D 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. E'en 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 hang'd, 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. host: [Exit. Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our |