Uly. So to him we leave it. Moft gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome; To teaft with me, and fee me at my tent. Achil. I fhall foreftal thee, Lord Ulyffes;-thou Hect. Is this Achilles? Achil. I am Achilles. Hect. Stand fair, I pr'thee, let me look on thee. Hect, Nay, I have done already. Achil. Thou art too brief. I will the fecond time, As I would buy thee, view thee, limb by limb. Hect. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er: But there's more in me than thou understand'ft. Why doft thou so opprefs me with thine eye? [body Achil. Tell me, you heav'ns, in which part of his Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, That I may give the local wound a name, And make diftinct the very breach, whereout Hector's great spirit flew. Anfwer me, heav'ns! Hect. It would difcredit the blefs'd gods, proud man, To answer fuch a question: ftand again. Think'st thou to catch my life fo pleasantly, As to prenominate, in nice conjecture, Achil. I tell thee, yea. Hect. Wert thou the oracle to tell me fo, But I'll endeavour deeds to match thefe words, Or may never. Ajax. Do not chafe thee, coufin; And you, Achilles, let thefe threats alone, If you have ftomach. The general state, I fear, Achil. Doft thou intreat me, Hector? Hect. Thy hand upon that match. Aga. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent, To taste your bounties: let the trumpets blow, great foldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt, Troi. Shall I, fweet Lord, be bound to thee fo much, After you part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither? Uly. You fhall command me, Sir; As gently tell me, of what honour was This Creffida in Troy; had she no lover there, Troi. O Sir, to fuch as boafting fhew their fears, A C T V. SCENE I. · Achil. Before Achilles's tent, in the Grecian camp. Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 'LL heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my fcimitar I'll cool to morrow. Patroclus, let us feaft him to the height. Enter Therfites. Achil. How now, thou core of envy ? Thou crufty batch of Nature, what's the news? Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou feem'ft, and idol of idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee.} Achil. From whence, fragment? Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troj. : Pat. Who keeps the tent now? Ther. The furgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Pat. Well faid, Adverfity; and what need these tricks? Ther. Tr'ythee, be filent, boy, I profit not by thy talk; thou art thought to be Achilles's male varlet. Pat. Male varlet, you rogue? what's that? Ther. Why, his mafculine whore. Now, the rotten difeafes of the fouth, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' th' back, lethargies, cold palfies, raw eyes, dirt rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impofthume, fciatica's, lime-kilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivell'ḍ tee-fimple of the tetter, take and take again fuch prepofterous discoveries. Pat. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curfe thus ? Ther. Do I curse thee? Pat. Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whorefon indiftinguishable car. Ther. No why art thou then exafperate, thou idle immaterial fkein of fley'd filk, thou green farcenet flap for a fore eye, thou taffel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pefter'd with fuch waterflies, diminutives of nuture. Pat. Out, gall. Ther. Finch-egg! Achil. My fweet 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 †, In this anfwer Therfites only quibbles upon the word tent. This is a circumstance taken from the ftory book of the three deftructions of Troy. Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep An oath that I have fworn. I will not break it; [Exeunt Achil. and Pat. 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 of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honeft fellow enough, and one that loves quails; but he hath not fo much brain as ear. wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive ftatue, and obelisk memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty thooing-horn in a chaiu, hanging at his brother's leg; to what form, but that he is, thould wit larded with malice, and malice forced with it, turn him? to an afs were nothing, he is both afs and ox; to an ox were nothing, he is both ox and afs; to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care: but to be Menelaus, i would confpire against destiny. Afk me not what I would be, if I were not Therfites; for I care not to be the loufe of a lazar, fo I were not Menelaus Heyday, fpirits and fires. SCENE II. Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulyffes. Neftor, and Diomede, with lights. Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong. Ajax. No, yonder 'tis ; there where we fee the light, Aja. No not a whit, Enter Achilles. Uly. Here comes himself to guide you. Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all, Meaning warton women; quails being of fo hot a conftitution, that it is a proverb among the French, Chand comme une caille. Des cailles coiffées, is an expreffion used by Rabelais. Ff VOL. VII. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. Heft. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks' General. Men. Good night, my Lord. Het. Good night, fweet Lord Menelaus. Ther. Sweet draught-fweet, quoth afweet fink, fweet fewer. Achil. Good night, and welcome, both at once, to That go or tarry. Aga Good night. [thofe Achil. Old Neftor tarries, and you too, Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two. Dio. I cannot, Lord, I have important bufinefs, The tide whereof is now; good night, great Hector. Hect. Give me your hand. Uly. Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company. Troi. Sweet Sir, you honour me, Heft. And fo good night. [To Troilus. Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. [Exeunt. Ther. That fame Diomede's a falfe-hearted rogue, a moft unjust knave: I will no more truft him when he leers, than I will a ferpent when he hiffes: he will spend his math and promife, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, aftronomers foretel it, that it is prodigious, there will come fome change: the fun borrows of the moon when Diomede keeps his word. I will rather leave to fee Hector, than not to dog him: they say, he keeps a Trojan drab, and ufes the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll afterNothing but lechery; all in.continent varlets. [Exit. SCENE III. Changes to Calchas' tent. Enter Diomede. Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak. Cat. [within.] Who calls! Dio. Diomede; Calchas I think; where's your daughter? Gal. [within She comes to you. |