Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses. Tro. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; 280 But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, Ulyss. To bring me thither? You shall command me, sir. This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? 290 [Exeunt. Act Fifth. Scene 1. 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. Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Patr. Well said, adversity! and what need these ΙΟ tricks? Ther. Prithee, 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 20 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-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries! Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what mean'st 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 sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such waterflies, diminutives of nature! Patr. Out, gall! 30 40 Ther. Finch-egg! Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite A token from her daughter, my fair love, An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent: 50 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 of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow 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 60 memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty shoeing-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 lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus! I would conspire against destiny. Ask me 70 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. Hoy-day! spirits and fires! Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights. 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. 80 Men. Good night, my lord. Hect. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus. |