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ACT V. SCENE I.

THE GRECIAN CAMP. BEFORE ACHILLES' TENT.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to

night,

Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.

Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

Patr. Here comes Thersites.

Achil.

Enter Thersites.

How now, thou core of envy?

Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.

Achil. From whence, fragment?

Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. Patr. Who keeps the tent now?

Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Patr. Well said, Adversity! and what need these tricks?

Ther. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet. Patr. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?

Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i'the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs,

bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, limekilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivell'd feesimple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!

Patr. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?

Ther. Do I curse thee?

Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.

Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleive silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pester'd with such water-flies; diminutives of nature! Patr. Out, gall!

Ther. Finch egg!

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. Here is a letter from queen Hecuba;

A token from her daughter, my fair love;
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep

An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honour, or go, or stay;
My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.——
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.-
Away, Patroclus.

[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two may run mad; but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer Here's Agamemnon,-an honest fel

of madmen.

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low enough, and one that loves quails; but he has not so much brain as ear-wax: And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty shooing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,-to what form, but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to an ox were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care: but to be Menelaus,-I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.-Hey-day! spirits · and fires!

lizard, an owl, a

Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses,
Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomed, with lights.
Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.
Ajax.

There, where we see the lights.

Hect.

No, yonder 'tis;

I trouble you.

Here comes himself to guide you.

Enter Achilles.

Ajax. No, not a whit.

Ulyss.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes

all.

Agam. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good

night.

Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.

Hect. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks'

general.

Men. Good night, my lord.

Hect.

Good night, sweet Menelaus.

Ther. Sweet draught: Sweet, quoth 'a! sweet

sink, sweet sewer.

Achil. Good night,

And welcome, both to those that go, or tarry.

Agam. Good night.

[Exeunt Agam. and Men. Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed,

Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Dio. I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now.-Good night, great Hec

tor.

Hect. Give me your hand.

Ulyss

To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.

Follow his torch, he goes

[Aside to Troilus.

And so good night.

Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me.

Hect.

[Exit Diomed; Ulysses and Troilus following.

Achil. Come, come, enter my tent.

[Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nest. Ther. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses: he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it; it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector,

than not to dog him: they say, he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: I'll after. -Nothing but lechery! all incontinent varlets!

[Exit.

SCENE II.

THE SAME. BEFORE CALCHAS' TENT.

Enter Diomed.

Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak.

Cal. [Within.] Who calls?

Dio. Diomed.-Calchas, I think.-Where's your daughter?

Cal. [Within.] She comes to you.

Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance; after them Thersites.

Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Cressida.

Tro. Cressid come forth to him!

Dio.

How now, my charge?

Cres. Now, my sweet guardian!-Hark! a word

with you.

Tro. Yea, so familiar!

[Whispers.

Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.

Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can take

her cliff; she's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Cres.

Dio.

Remember? yes.

Nay, but do then;

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