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Ther, Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you

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

Ther. You see him there, do you?
Achil. Ay; what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon

Achil. So I do; What's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. Well, why I do so.

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

Achil. I know that, fool.
Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajar. 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 sparrows 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?
Ther. I say, this Ajax--
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

[Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes. Ther. Has not so much witAchil. Nay, I must hold you.

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Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus.

Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks; Deliver Helen, and all damage elseAs lionour, loss of time, travel, expence, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd In hot digestion of this cormorant war, Shall be struck off :-Hector, what say you to't? Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks

than I, As far as toucheth my particular, yet, Dread Priam, There is no lady of more softer bowels, More spungy to suck in the sense of fear, More ready to cry outWho knows what follows? Than Hector is: The wound of


is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.

Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,

, Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours: If we have lost so many tenths of ours, To guard a thing not ours; not 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?


Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, So great as our dread father, in a scale Of common ounces? will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite? And buckle-in a waist most fathomless, With

spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at

reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother

priest, You fur your gloves with reason.

Here are your reasons: You know, an enemy intends you harm; You know, a sword employ’d is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm: Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels; And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star dis-orb’d?—Nay, if we talk of rea


Let's shut our gates, and sleep: Manhood and ho

nour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their

thoughts With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

and ears,

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding Tro.

What is aught, but as 'tis valued? Hect. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry, To make the service greater than the god; And the will dotes, that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of the affected merit.

Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores, Of will and judgment: How may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? there can be no evasion To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, When we have soild them; nor the remainder

viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet, - Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath with full consent belly'd his sails; The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd; And, for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held cap

tive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and


Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning.
Why keep we her the Grecians keep our aunt:
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cry’d-Go, go,)
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cry'd— Inestimable !) why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!

Cas. [Within.] Cry, Trojans, cry!

What noise? what shriek is this?
Tro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.
Cas. [Within.] Cry, Trojans !
Hect. It is Cassandra.

Enter Cassandra, raving. Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand

And I will fill them with prophetick tears.

Hect. Peace, sister, peace.
Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled

Soft infancy, that nothing can'st but cry,

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