Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathsom'st scab in Greece.

Ajax. I fay, the proclamation.

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's beauty. I, that thou bark'st at him.

Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites.

Ther. Thou shouldst strike him,

Ajax. "Cobloaf.

Ther. He would pound thee into fhivers with his fift, as a failor breaks a bisket.

Ajax. You whorson cur.

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch.

[Beating him.

Ther. Ay, do, thou fodden-witted lord; thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows: an Affinego may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and fold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian flave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou. Ajax. You dog.

Ther. You fcurvy lord.

Ajax. You cur.

[Beating him.

Ther. Mars his ideot! do rudenefs, do camel, do, do.

[blocks in formation]

Achil. Why how now, Ajax? wherefore do you

this?

How now, Therfites? what's the matter, man?

Ther. You fee him there, do you?

Achil. Ay, what's the matter?

Ther.

Ther. Nay look upon him.

Achil. So I do, what's the matter?

Ther. Nay, but regard him well.

Achil. Well, why I do fo.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him; for whofoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achil. I know that, fool.

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.

[ocr errors]

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his evafions have ears thus long. I have böbb'd his brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine fparrows for a penny, and his Pia Mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord (Achilles) Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of him.

Achil. What?

[Ajax offers to firike him, Achilles interpofes.

Ther. I fay, this Ajax.
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

Ther. Has not so much wit

Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight.

Achil. Peace, fool.

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not:

he there, that he, look you there.

Ajax. O thou damn'd cur, I fhall ---

Achil. Will you fet your wit to a fool's?

Ther. No, I warrant you, for a fool's will fhame it.

Pat. Good words, Therfites.

Achil. What's the quarrel?

Ajax, I bad the vile owl go learn me the tenure of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

[blocks in formation]

Ther. I serve thee not.

Ajax. Well, go to, go to.

Ther. I ferve here voluntary.

Achil. Your last service was fufferance, 'twas not voluntary, no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.

Ther. Ev'n so----a great deal of your wit too lies in your finews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains, he were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Therfites?

Ther. There's Ulyffes, and old Neftor, (whose wit was mouldy ere their Grandfires had nails on their toes,) yoke you like draft oxen, and make you plough up the wair.

Achil. What! what!

Ther. Yes good footh, to Achilles, to Ajax, to--

Ajax. I fhall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. Pat. No more words, Therfites.

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. I will fee you hang'd like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit ftirring, and leave the faction of fools

Pat. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry this, Sir, is proclaim'd through all our host,

That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,

Will with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call fome knight to arms,
That hath a stomach, such a one that dare
Maintain I know not what: 'tis trash, farewel.
Ajax. Farewel! who fhall anfwer him?

6

[Exit.

Achil.

Achil. I know not, 'tis put to lott'ry; otherwise He knew his man.

Pri.

Ajax. O, meaning you: I'll go learn more of it.

SCENE III.

Priam's Palace in Troy.

[Exeunt.

Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus.

A

Fter so many hours, lives, fpeeches spent,

Thus once again fays Neftor from the Greeks: Deliver Helen, and all damage else

(As honour, loss of time, travel, expence,

Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is confum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war)

Shall be ftruck off. Hector, what say you to't?

Hect. Though no man leffer fears the Greeks than I, As far as touches my particular; yet

There is no lady of more softer bowels,

More fpungy to fuck in the sense of fear,

More ready to cry out, who knows what follows?
Than Hector is. The wound of peace is furety,
Surety fecure; but modeft doubt is call'd

The beacon of the wife; the tent that searches
To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen

go.
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Ev'ry tithe foul 'mongst many thousand † dismes
Hath been as dear as Helen. I mean of ours.

If we have loft fo many tenths of ours
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us

(Had it our name) the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason, which denies
The yielding of her up?

+ difmes tenths.

Troi.

Troi. Fie, fie, my brother:

Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
(So great is our dread father) in a fcale

Of common ounces? will you with counters fum
The vast proportion of his infinite?

And buckle in a waste, most fathomless,
With spans and inches fo diminutive

As fears and reasons? fie for godly shame!

Hel. No marvel, tho' you bite fo fharp at reasons, You're empty of them. Should not our father Priam Bear the great fway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none that tells him fo?

Troi. You are for dreams and flumbers, brother priest,
You fur your gloves with reasons. Here are your reafons.
You know an enemy intends you harm,

You know, a fword imploy'd is perillous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels then when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his fword, if he do fet
The very wings of reason to his heels,

† And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

† Or like a ftar dis-orb'd. ---Nay if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and fleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make livers pale, and luftyhood deject.

Hect. Brother, she is not worth

What she doth cost the holding.

Troi. What's ought, but as 'tis valu’d?
Hect. But Value dwells not in particular will,

It holds its estimate and dignity

As well wherein 'tis precious of it felf,
As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,

Thefe two lines are misplaced in all the folio editions.

Το

8 bard

h

lovers

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinua »