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And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
O, then beware,
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus :
An appetite that I am sick withal,
Ther. A wonder!
Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.
Achil. How so?
Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. · Achil. How can that be?
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like, an hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politick regard, as who should say, there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said, Good morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.
Achil. Thou must be my embassador to him, · Thersites.
Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm’d to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honour'd captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.
Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.
Patr. Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent;
Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.
Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.
Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain
stirr’d; And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter, at one side, Æneas, and Servant, with a torch;
at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, Diomedes, and Others, with torches. Par. See, ho! who's that there? Dei.
'Tis the lord Æneas. Xne. Is the prince there in person?-Had I so good occasion to lie long, As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company. Dio. That's my mind too.—Good morrow, lord
Æneas. Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand: Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told—how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. Æne.
Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meet you arm’d, as black defiance, As heart can think, or courage execute.
Dio. The one and other Diomed embrace Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health: But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life, With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
Æne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward.-In humane gentleness,