ACT II. SCENE I.—Another part of the Grecian Camp. Enter AJAX and THERSITES. Ajax. Thersites, 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 would come some matter from him; I see none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son! canst thou not hear? Feel, then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak, then, thou unsalted leaven! speak: I'll 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 strikest me thus? Ajax. The proclamation, Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. 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. 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! Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Achil. Why, how now, Ajax, wherefore do How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man? Achil. So I do; what's the matter? 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 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 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 wars. 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 first hour of the sun, 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'll 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, travel, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this cormorant war- than I, You know, an enemy intends Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammed reason: reason and respect Make livers pale, and lustihood deject. Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding. Tro. What is aught, but as 't is valued? Hect. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds its estimate and dignity As well wherein 't is precious of itself As in the prizer: 't is mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god; Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships, And turned crowned kings to merchants. But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen, Pri. What noise? what shriek is this? Enter CASSANDRA, raving. Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears! Hect. Peace, sister, peace. Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, strains We may not think the justness of each act Par. Else might the world convince of levity Paris, you speak Pri. Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? There's not the meanest spirit on our party, Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw, When Helen is defended; nor none so noble, Whose life were ill bestowed, or death unfamed, Where Helen is the subject: then, I say, Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well, The world's large spaces cannot parallel. Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; And on the cause and question now in hand Have glozed—but superficially; not much Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought Unfit to hear moral philosophy: The reasons you allege do more conduce Tro. Why, there you touched the life of our Were it not glory that we more affected Hect. |