Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas; We left them all at home: but we are soldiers; Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man One noble man that hath one spark of fire, Agam. Fair lord Æneas, let me touch your hand; Achilles shall have word of this intent; So shall each-lord of Greece, from tent to tent; And find the welcome of a noble foe. Ulyss. Nestor, [Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR. Nest. What says Ulysses? Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. Nest. What is 't? Ulyss. This 't is. Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride, In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. Nest. Well, and how? Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles. Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance, Pointing on him. Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you? Nest. Why, 't is most meet: whom may you else oppose, That can from Hector bring his honour off, If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat, Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute In this wild action; for the success, And in such indexes (although small pricks Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd, As 't were from forth us all, a man distill'd Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence the conquering part, 321 In no less working, than are swords and bows Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech: Therefore 't is meet Achilles meet not Hector. By showing the worse first. Do not consent, For both our honour and our shame, in this, Nest. I see them not with my old eyes: what are they? And we were better parch in Afric sun, Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, Nest. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; And I will give a taste of it forthwith To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 't were their bone. [Exeunt. Ajax. Thersites, Ther. Agamemnon how if he had boils? full, all over, generally? Ajax. Thersites, Ther. And those boils did run? - Say so, neral run then? were not that a botchy core? did not the ge Ther. Then would come some matter from him: I see none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf 's son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beefwitted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou vinewd'st leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. Ther. 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. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus? Ajax. The proclamation, Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not: my fingers itch. Ther. 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, Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him. Ajax. Mistress Thersites ! Ther. Thou shouldest strike him. Ajax. Cobloaf! Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. Ajax. You whoreson cur! Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou stool 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 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! Ther. You scurvy 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 this? Ther. You see him there, do you? Achil. So I do: what's the matter? 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. Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. Ther. 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 ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, |