SCENE I.-The Grecian Camp. Before ACHILLES' Tent.

Enter ACHILLES and 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.

Achil.

Enter THERSITES.

How now, thou cur1 of envy!

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? Ther. Prythee 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 palsies, 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 discolourers?!

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 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 water-flies, diminutives of nature!

Patr. Out, gall!

Ther. Finch egg!

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite

1 core in folio. 2 discoveries: in f. e.

3 Floss.

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.-
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 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 her-
ring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Mene-
laus,-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.

There, where we see the lights.

Hect.

Ajax. No, not a whit.

Ulyss.

No, yonder 't is ;

I trouble you.

Here comes himself to guide you. Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector, welcome, princes all. 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 AGAM. and MEN. 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.
To Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company.

Follow his torch, he goes

[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.

SCENE II.-The Same. Before CALCHAS' Tent.

Enter DIOMEDES.

Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak.

Cal. [Within.] Who calls?

Dio. Diomed.-Calchas, I think.-Where's your daughter?

Cal. [Within.] She comes to you.

Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; after them

THERSITES.

Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter CRESSIDA.

Tro. Cressid comes forth to him.

Dio.

How now, my charge!

Cres. Now, my sweet guardian.-Hark! a word with

[Whispers.

Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.

Ther. And any man may find her key,' if he can take her cleft; she's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Cres. Remember? yes.

Dio. Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Tro. What should she remember?

Ulyss. List.

Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. Ther. Roguery?

Dio. Nay, then,

Cres.

I'll tell you what

Dio. Pho! pho! come tell, a pin; you are forsworn.— Cres. In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do? Ther. A juggling trick,-to be secretly open. Dio. What did you swear you would bestow on me? Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.

Dio. Good night.

Tro.

Ulyss.

Cres.

Hold, patience!

How now, Trojan?

Diomed!

Dio. No, no; good night: I'll be your fool no more.

Tro. Thy better must.

Cres.

Hark! one word in your ear.

Tro. O, plague and madness!

Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince: let us depart, I pray

you,

Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself

To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you, go.
Tro. Behold, I pray you!

Ulyss.

You flow to great distraction; come, my lord.

Nay, my good lord, go off:

You have not patience; come.

Tro. I pray you, stay. By hell, and all hell's torments,

I will not speak a word.

Dio.

And so, good night.

1 may sing her: in f. e. 2 cliff: in f. e.

Cres. Nay, but you part in anger.

Tro.

O, wither'd truth!

Ulyss.
Tro.

I will be patient.

Cres.

Guardian !—why, Greek!

Dio. Pho, pho! adieu; you palter.

Cres. In faith, I do not: come hither once again. Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? You will break out.

Tro.

Ulyss.

She strokes his cheek!

Come, come. Tro. Nay, stay: by Jove, I will not speak a word. There is between my will and all offences

A guard of patience.-Stay a little while.

Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump and potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! Dio. But will you then?

Cres. In faith, I will, lord:1 never trust me else.
Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it.

Cres. I'll fetch you one.

Ulyss. You have sworn patience.

Tro.

[Exit.

Fear me not, sweet lord;

I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.
Re-enter CRESSIDA.

now!

[Giving it.2

My lord,

Ther. Now the pledge! now, now,
Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
Tro. O beauty! where is thy faith?
Ulyss.

Tro. I will be patient; outwardly I will.

Cres. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.He lov'd me-O false wench!-Give 't me again. Dio. Whose was 't?

Cres.

It is no matter, now I have 't again:

I will not meet with you to-morrow night.

I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more.

Ther. Now she sharpens.-Well said, whetstone.
Dio. I shall have it.

Cres.

Dio.

What, this?

Cres. O, all you gods !-O pretty, pretty pledge!

1 la: in f. e. 2 Not in f. e.