Calchas.
Look you, who comes here?
Achil.
Patroclus, I'll speak with no body. Come in
with me, Thersites.
[Exit.
Ther.
Here is such patchery, such juggling, and
such knavery. All the argument is a cuckold and a
whore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and
bleed to death upon. 7 noteNow the dry Serpigo on the
subject, and war and lechery confound all!
[Exit.
Aga.
Where is Achilles?
Patr.
Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my Lord.
Aga.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
8 note
He shent our messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him;
Let him be told so, lest, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patr.
I shall so say to him.
[Exit.
Ulys.
We saw him at the op'ning of his tent,
He is not sick.
Ajax.
Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart. You
may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man;
-- 458 --
but, by my head, 'tis pride; but why, why?—let
him shew us the cause. A word, my Lord.
[To Agamemnon.
Nest.
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulys.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who, Thersites?
Ulys.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost
his argument.
Ulys.
No, you see, he is his argument, that has his
argument, Achilles.
Nest.
All the better; their fraction is more our wish
than their faction; but it was a strong 9 notecomposure,
that a fool could disunite.
Ulys.
The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may
easily untye.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
