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.
Enter Thersites.
Achil.
How now, thou cur of envy5 note!
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?
-- 110 --
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 palsies6 note,
raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs,
bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i' the
palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple
of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous
discoveries! 11Q0852
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 sleave silk7 note, 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
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.—
-- 111 --
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 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 memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty shoeing-horn
in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg8 note,—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 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!
Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses,
Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with Lights.
Agam.
We go wrong; we go wrong.
Ajax.
No, yonder 'tis;
There, where we see the lights.
Hect.
I trouble you.
Ajax.
No, not a whit.
Ulyss.
Here comes himself to guide you.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Welcome, brave Hector: welcome, princes all.
-- 112 --
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 lord Menelaus.
Ther.
Sweet draught: sweet, quoth 'a! sweet sink,
sweet sewer.
Achil.
Good night, and welcome, both at once to those
That go, or tarry.
Agam.
Good night.
[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus.
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 Hector.
Hect.
Give me your hand.
Ulyss.
Follow his torch, he goes
To Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company.
[Aside to Troilus.
Tro.
Sweet sir, you honour me.
Hect.
And so good night.
[Exit Diomed; Ulysses and Troilus following.
Achil.
Come, come; enter my tent.
[Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor.
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 foretel 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.
-- 113 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
