Enter Achilles and Patroclus
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool tomorrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Here comes Thersites.
How now, thou core of envy?
Thou crusty botch of nature, what's the news?
Why, thou picture of what thou seemest,
and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
From whence, fragment?
Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Achilles stands aside to read his letter
Who keeps the tent now?
The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.
Well said, adversity! And what need these
Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy
talk. Thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.
Male varlet, you rogue? What's that?
Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten
diseases of the south, guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs,
loads o' gravel i'th' back, lethargies, cold palsies, and
the like, take and take again such preposterous
Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou,
what mean'st thou to curse thus?
Do I curse thee?
Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson
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!
My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in tomorrow'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. –
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent. –
Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus
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 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 not what I would be, if I were
not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar so
feel concern, be anxious, trouble oneself
I were not Menelaus. – Hoyday! Spirits and fires!
Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses,
Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights
We go wrong, we go wrong.
No, yonder 'tis –
There, where we see the lights.
I trouble you.
No, not a whit.
Here comes himself to guide you.
Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.
So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night.
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general.
Good night, my lord.
Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.
Sweet draught, sweet, quoth 'a! Sweet sink,
Good night and welcome both at once to those
That go or tarry.
Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus
Old Nestor tarries, and you too, Diomed;
Keep Hector company an hour or two.
I cannot, lord; I have important business,
The tide whereof is now. – Good night, great Hector.
Give me your hand.
(aside to Troilus)
Follow his torch; he goes
To Calchas' tent. I'll keep you company.
(aside to Ulysses)
Sweet sir, you honour me.
And so, good night.
Exit Diomedes, Ulysses and Troilus following
Come, come, enter my tent.
Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor
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
look sideways, cast a side glance, smile disarmingly
spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the
hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it,
that 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
follow closely, pursue like a dog
him: they say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the
traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after. – Nothing but
lechery! All incontinent varlets!