Act II
Scene I
A part of the Grecian camp.
Enter Ajax and Thersites. | |
Ajax | Thersites! |
Thersites | Agamemnon, how if he had boils? full, all over, generally? |
Ajax | Thersites! |
Thersites | And those boils did run? say so: did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core? |
Ajax | Dog! |
Thersites | Then would come some matter from him; I see none now. |
Ajax | Thou bitch-wolf’s son, canst thou not hear? Beating him. Feel, then. |
Thersites | The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! |
Ajax | Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. |
Thersites | I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o’ thy jade’s tricks! |
Ajax | Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. |
Thersites | Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? |
Ajax | The proclamation! |
Thersites | Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. |
Ajax | Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch. |
Thersites | I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. |
Ajax | I say, the proclamation! |
Thersites | Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpine’s beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him. |
Ajax | Mistress Thersites! |
Thersites | Thou shouldest strike him. |
Ajax | Cobloaf! |
Thersites | He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. |
Ajax | Beating him. You whoreson cur! |
Thersites | Do, do. |
Ajax | Thou stool for a witch! |
Thersites | Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use 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! |
Thersites | You scurvy lord! |
Ajax | Beating him. You cur! |
Thersites | Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. |
Enter Achilles and Patroclus. | |
Achilles | Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you thus? How now, Thersites! what’s the matter, man? |
Thersites | You see him there, do you? |
Achilles | Ay; what’s the matter? |
Thersites | Nay, look upon him. |
Achilles | So I do: what’s the matter? |
Thersites | Nay, but regard him well. |
Achilles | “Well!” why, I do so. |
Thersites | But yet you look not well upon him; for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. |
Achilles | I know that, fool. |
Thersites | Ay, but that fool knows not himself. |
Ajax | Therefore I beat thee. |
Thersites | Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed 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 nineth 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. |
Achilles | What? |
Thersites | I say, this Ajax—Ajax offers to beat him. |
Achilles | Nay, good Ajax. |
Thersites | Has not so much wit— |
Achilles | Nay, I must hold you. |
Thersites | As will stop the eye of Helen’s needle, for whom he comes to fight. |
Achilles | Peace, fool! |
Thersites | I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there: that he: look you there. |
Ajax | O thou damned cur! I shall— |
Achilles | Will you set your wit to a fool’s? |
Thersites | No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it. |
Patroclus | Good words, Thersites. |
Achilles | What’s the quarrel? |
Ajax | I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. |
Thersites | I serve thee not. |
Ajax | Well, go to, go to. |
Thersites | I serve here voluntary. |
Achilles | Your last service was sufferance, ’twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. |
Thersites | E’en so; a great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a’ were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. |
Achilles | What, with me too, Thersites? |
Thersites | There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught-oxen and make you plough up the wars. |
Achilles | What, what? |
Thersites | Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to! |
Ajax | I shall cut out your tongue. |
Thersites | ’Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. |
Patroclus | No more words, Thersites; peace! |
Thersites | I will hold my peace when Achilles’ brach bids me, shall I? |
Achilles | There’s for you, Patroclus. |
Thersites | I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring and leave the faction of fools. Exit. |
Patroclus | A good riddance. |
Achilles |
Marry, this, sir, is proclaim’d through all our host:
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Ajax | Farewell. Who shall answer him? |
Achilles |
I know not: ’tis put to lottery; otherwise
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Ajax | O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it. Exeunt. |
Scene II
Troy. A room in Priam’s palace.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus. | |
Priam |
After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
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Hector |
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I
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Troilus |
Fie, fie, my brother!
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Helenus |
No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons,
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Troilus |
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest;
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Hector |
Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
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Troilus | What is aught, but as ’tis valued? |
Hector |
But value dwells not in particular will;
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Troilus |
I take to-day a wife, and my election
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Cassandra | Within. Cry, Trojans, cry! |
Priam | What noise? what shriek is this? |
Troilus | ’Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. |
Cassandra | Within. Cry, Trojans! |
Hector | It is Cassandra. |
Enter Cassandra, raving. | |
Cassandra |
Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes,
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Hector | Peace, sister, peace! |
Cassandra |
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld,
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Hector |
Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains
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Troilus |
Why, brother Hector,
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Paris |
Else might the world convince of levity
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Priam |
Paris, you speak
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Paris |
Sir, I propose not merely to myself
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Hector |
Paris and Troilus, you have both said well,
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Troilus |
Why, there you touch’d the life of our design:
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Hector |
I am yours,
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Scene III
The Grecian camp. Before Achilles’ tent.
Enter Thersites, solus. | |
Thersites | How now, Thersites! what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me. ’Sfoot, I’ll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I’ll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there’s Achilles, a rare enginer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less than little wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles! |
Enter Patroclus. | |
Patroclus | Who’s there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. |
Thersites | If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I’ll be sworn and sworn upon’t she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where’s Achilles? |
Patroclus | What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? |
Thersites | Ay: the heavens hear me! |
Enter Achilles. | |
Achilles | Who’s there? |
Patroclus | Thersites, my lord. |
Achilles | Where, where? Art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what’s Agamemnon? |
Thersites | Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what’s Achilles? |
Patroclus | Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what’s thyself? |
Thersites | Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? |
Patroclus | Thou mayst tell that knowest. |
Achilles | O, tell, tell. |
Thersites | I’ll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus’ knower, and Patroclus is a fool. |
Patroclus | You rascal! |
Thersites | Peace, fool! I have not done. |
Achilles | He is a privileged man. Proceed, Thersites. |
Thersites | Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. |
Achilles | Derive this; come. |
Thersites | Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive. |
Patroclus | Why am I a fool? |
Thersites | Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here? |
Achilles | Patroclus, I’ll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites. Exit. |
Thersites | Here is such patchery, such juggling and such knavery! all the argument is a cuckold and a whore; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now, the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all! Exit. |
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, and Ajax. | |
Agamemnon | Where is Achilles? |
Patroclus | Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord. |
Agamemnon |
Let it be known to him that we are here.
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Patroclus | I shall say so to him. Exit. |
Ulysses |
We saw him at the opening of his tent:
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Ajax | Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, ’tis pride: but why, why? let him show us the cause. A word, my lord. Takes Agamemnon aside. |
Nestor | What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? |
Ulysses | Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. |
Nestor | Who, Thersites? |
Ulysses | He. |
Nestor | Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument. |
Ulysses | No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument, Achilles. |
Nestor | All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction: but it was a strong composure a fool could disunite. |
Ulysses | The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. |
Re-enter Patroclus. | |
Nestor | No Achilles with him. |
Ulysses | The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. |
Patroclus |
Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
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Agamemnon |
Hear you, Patroclus:
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Patroclus | I shall; and bring his answer presently. Exit. |
Agamemnon |
In second voice we’ll not be satisfied;
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Ajax | What is he more than another? |
Agamemnon | No more than what he thinks he is. |
Ajax | Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am? |
Agamemnon | No question. |
Ajax | Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is? |
Agamemnon | No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. |
Ajax | Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is. |
Agamemnon | Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. |
Ajax | I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads. |
Nestor | Yet he loves himself: is’t not strange? Aside. |
Re-enter Ulysses. | |
Ulysses | Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. |
Agamemnon | What’s his excuse? |
Ulysses |
He doth rely on none,
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Agamemnon |
Why will he not upon our fair request
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Ulysses |
Things small as nothing, for request’s sake only,
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Agamemnon |
Let Ajax go to him.
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Ulysses |
O Agamemnon, let it not be so!
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Nestor | Aside to Diomedes. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. |
Diomedes | Aside to Nestor. And how his silence drinks up this applause! |
Ajax |
If I go to him, with my armed fist
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Agamemnon | O, no, you shall not go. |
Ajax |
An a’ be proud with me, I’ll pheeze his pride:
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Ulysses | Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. |
Ajax | A paltry, insolent fellow! |
Nestor | How he describes himself! |
Ajax | Can he not be sociable? |
Ulysses | The raven chides blackness. |
Ajax | I’ll let his humours blood. |
Agamemnon | He will be the physician that should be the patient. |
Ajax | An all men were o’ my mind— |
Ulysses | Wit would be out of fashion. |
Ajax | A’ should not bear it so, a’ should eat swords first: shall pride carry it? |
Nestor | An ’twould, you’ld carry half. |
Ulysses | A’ would have ten shares. |
Ajax | I will knead him; I’ll make him supple. |
Nestor | He’s not yet through warm: force him with praises: pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. |
Ulysses | To Agamemnon. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. |
Nestor | Our noble general, do not do so. |
Diomedes | You must prepare to fight without Achilles. |
Ulysses |
Why, ’tis this naming of him does him harm.
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Nestor |
Wherefore should you so?
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Ulysses | Know the whole world, he is as valiant. |
Ajax |
A whoreson dog, that shall pelter thus with us!
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Nestor | What a vice were it in Ajax now— |
Ulysses | If he were proud— |
Diomedes | Or covetous of praise— |
Ulysses | Ay, or surly borne— |
Diomedes | Or strange, or self-affected! |
Ulysses |
Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure;
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Ajax | Shall I call you father? |
Nestor | Ay, my good son. |
Diomedes | Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax. |
Ulysses |
There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
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Agamemnon |
Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
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