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SCEN E V.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Thersites folus.
ry? shall the elephant Ajax carry it 'thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me: 'sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken 'till these two undermine it, the walls will stand 'till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and Mercury lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that they have; which short-arm'd ignorance it self knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing the massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather the bone-ach, for that methinks is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my lord Achilles !
Enter Patroclus Patr. Who's there? Therfites ? Good Thersites come in and rail.
Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt counter, thou could st not have flip'd out of my contemplation, but it is no matter, thy self upon thy self! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee. Let thy blood be thy direction ’till thy death, then if the that lays thee out says thou
art a fair coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrowded any but Lazars; Amen. Where's Achilles ?
Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in a prayer ?
Achil. Where, where ? art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion ---why haft thou not served thy self up to my table, lo many meals? come, what's Agamemnon?
Ther. Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?
Patr. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thy self;
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus, what art thou?
Patr. Thou may'lt tell, that know'st.
Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus's knower, and Patroclus is a fool.
Patr. You rascal
Achil. He is a privilegʻd man. Proceed, Therfites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Therfites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.
Achil. Derive this ; come.
Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles, Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon, Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.
Patr. Why am I a fool!
Look you, who comes here? --
Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me, Therfites.
Ther. Here is fuçla patekery, fuch jugling, and such knavery: all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon: now the dry Şerpiga on the subject, and war and lechery confound all.
Aga. Where is Achilles ?
Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, fick of a proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man, but by my head 'tis pride; but why, why? ---- let him shew us the caufe.
, bath inveigled his fool from bim.
Ulys. No, you see he is his argument, that has his argument, Achilles.
Neft. All the better, their fraction is more our wish than their faction; but it was a strong counsel that a fool could difunite.
Ulys. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may eafily untye.
Enter Patroclus. Here comes Patroclus.
Neft. No Achilles with him ?
Ulys. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie;
Patr. Achilles bids me fay, he is much forry,
Aga. Hear you, Patroclus;
Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Ajax. What is he more than another ?
Ajax. Is he so much? do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am?
Aga. No question.
Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.
Ajax. Why should a man be proud ? how doth pride grow? I know not what it is.
Aga. Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer ; he that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle, and whatever praises it self but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. Vi
SCENE His pettis lines.