Part 35

Ther. No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleid silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pest’red with such water-flies-diminutives of nature!

Patr. Out, gall!

Ther. Finch egg!

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow’s battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my fair love, Both taxing me and gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; My major vow lies here, this I’ll obey. Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent; This night in banqueting must all be spent. Away, Patroclus! Exit with Patroclus

Ther. With too much blood and too little brain these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and to little blood they do, I’ll be a curer of madmen. Here’s Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother’s leg-to what form but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox, were nothing: he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a put-tock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day! sprites and fires!

Enter Hector, Troylus, Aiax, Agamemnon, Vlyſſes, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights

Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Aiax. No, yonder ’tis; There, where we see the lights.

Hect. I trouble you.

Aiax. No, not a whit.

Re-enter Achilles

Vlyſ. Here comes himself to guide you.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all.

Agam. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night; Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.

Hect. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks’ general.

Men. Good night, my lord.

Hect. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.

Ther. Sweet draught! ‘Sweet’ quoth ’a? Sweet sink, sweet sewer!

Achil. Good night and welcome, both at once, to those That go or tarry.

Agam. Good night. Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus

Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Diom. I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector.

Hect. Give me your hand.

Vlyſ. [Aside to Troylus] Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas’ tent; I’ll keep you company.

Troy. Sweet sir, you honour me.

Hect. And so, good night. Exit Diomedes; Vlyſſes and Troylus following

Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. Exeunt all but Thersites

Ther. That same Diomed’s a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a Troian drab, and uses the traitor Calchas’ tent. I’ll after. Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets! Exit