ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part of the Grecian Camp. Enter AJAX and THERSITES. Ajax. Therfites,- Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils? full, all over, generally? Ajax, Therfites,- Ther. And those boils did run?-Say fo,-did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core? Ajax. Dog, Ther. Then would come fome matter from him; I fee none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's fon, canft thou not hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou unfalted leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holinefs: but, I think, thy horfe will fooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, can't thou? a red murrain o'thy jade's tricks! Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Doft thou think, I have no fenfe, thou ftrik'st me thus ? Ajax. The proclamation,- Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think. Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and 8 I had I had the fcratching of thee; I would make thee the loathfomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incurfions, thou ftrikest as flow as another. 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, ay, that thou bark'st at him. Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites! Ther. Thou should'ft ftrike him. Ajax. Cobloaf! Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a failor breaks a bifcuit. Ajax. You whorefon cur! Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch! [Beating him. Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an affinego may tutor thee: Thou fcurvy valiant afs! thou art here put to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and fold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou ufe 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 idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you thus? How now, Therfites? what's the matter, man ? Ther. You fee him there, do you? Achil. Ay; what's the matter? 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. Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters ! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'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 fay of him. Achil. What? Ther. I fay, this Ajax—— [AJAX offers to ftrike bim, ACHILLES interposes. Ther. Has not fo much wit- Achil. Nay, I must hold you. 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. Patr. Good words, Therfites. Achil. What's the quarrel? Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. Ther. I ferve 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 imprefs. -a great deal of your wit too lies in Hector fhall have a Ther. Even fo?your finews, or else there be liars. great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; 'a were as good crack a fufty nut with no kernel. Achil. What, with me too, Therfites? Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor,—whose wit was mouldy ere your grandfires had nails on their toes,-yoke like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars. Achil. What, what? you 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. Patr. No more words, Therfites; peace. Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, fhall I? Ther. I will fee you hang'd, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit tirring, and leave the faction of fools. Patr. A good riddance. [Exit. Achil. Marry, this, fir, is proclaim'd through all our hoft: That Hector, by the first hour of the fun, Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy, Ajax. Farewell. Who fhall answer him? Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise, He knew his man. Ajax. O, meaning you:-I'll go learn more of it. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS. Pri. After fo many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Neftor from the Greeks; Deliver Helen, and all damage elfe As bonour, loss of time, travel, expence, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is confum'd Shall be ftruck off :-Hector, what say you to't? Het. Though no man leffer fears the Greeks than I, As far as toucheth my particular, yet, Dread Priam, There is no lady of more fofter bowels, More fpungy to fuck in the sense of fear, More ready to cry out-Who knows what follows? Had |