Puslapio vaizdai
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Makes Merit her Ele&ion, and doth boil
As 'twere from forth us all; a Man diftill'd
Out of our Virtues; who miscarrying,
What Heart from hence receives the conqu’ring part
To steel a strong Opinion to themselves,
Which entertain'd, Limbs are his Instruments,
In no less working, than are Swords and Bows
Diređive by the Limbs.

Vlyf. Give pardon to my Speech:
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector:
Let us, like Merchants, shew our fowlest Wares,
And think perchance they'll sell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to shew,
Shall shew the better. Do not consent,
That ever Hečtor and Achilles meet :
For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange Followers.

Neft. I see them not with my old Eyes: What are they?

Ulys. What glory our Achilles Mares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should wear with him:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were better parch in Africk Sun
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his Eyes,
Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foild,
Why then we did our main Opinion crush
In taint of our best Man. No, make a Lote’ry,
And by device let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: Among our selves,
Give him allowance as the worthyer Man,
For that will Phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in lowd applause, and make him fall
His Crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in Voices; if he fail,
Yet go we under our Opinion still,
That we have better Men. But hit or miss,
Our proje&s life this shape of sense assumes,
Ajax imploy'd, plucks down Achilles Plumes,
Neft. Now Ulylles, I begin to relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him fticight;

.

Two

Two Curs shall tame each other; Pride alone
Must tar the Mastiffs on, as 'twere their Bone.

[Exeunte

A CT II. SCENE I.
SCENE the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Thersites.
-Ajax T Herfites

. * . Ther. Agamemnon.--. how if he had Biles.

.--full, all over generally,

[Talking to himself. Ajax. Therfites.

Ther. And those Biles did run---- say so---- did not the General run, were not that a Botchy core?

Ajax. Dog.

Ther. Then there 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 Mungrel beef-witted Lord,

Ajex. Speak then, you whinid'At leaven, speak, I will beat thee into handsomnefs.

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 Jades tricks.

Ajax. Toads-stoo', learn me the Proclamation.
Ther. Doeft thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me
Ajax. The Proclamation.

[thus? Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a Fool, I think. Ajax. Do not Porcupine, do not; my Fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didit itch from Head to Foot, and I had the scratching of chee, I would make thee the loathfom'st scab in Greece.

Ajax. I say, the Proclamation,

Ther. Thou grumbleft and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's Beauty, I, that thou bark'st at him.

a

Ajax. Mistress Therfites.
Ther. Thou should it strike him.
Ajax. Cobloaf.

Ther. He would pun thee into Shivers with his Fist, as a
Sailor breaks a Bisket.
Ajax. You whorson Cur,

Beating him, Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou ftool for a Witch.

Ther. Ay, do, thou sodden-witted Lord; thou hast na more Brain than I have in mine Elbows: An Apnico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant Ass, thou art here but to thresh Trojars, and thou art bought and fold 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 scuryy 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? How now, Therftes? what's the matter, Man?

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

2

Achil. What? [Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes.
Ther. I say, this Ajax-
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.
Ther. Has not so much wit.
Achil. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will stop the Eye of Helen's Needle, for whom he comes to fight.

Acbil. Peace, Foo!.

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the Fool will not; he there, that he, look you there.

Ajat. O thou damn'd Cur, I shall-
Achil. Will

you
set
your

wir to a Fool's ?
Ther. No, I warrant you, for a Fool's will shame it.
Par. Good Words, Therfites.
Achil, What's the Quarrel?

Ajax. I bad the vile Owl, go learn me the tenure of the Proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.
Ajax. We'll, go to, go to.
Ther. I serve here voluntary.

Achil. Your last Service was sufferance, 'twas not voluptary, no Man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an Impress.

Ther. E'en so.--- a great a deal of your wit too lies in your Sinews, or else there be Liars: Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your Brains, he were as good crack a fusty Nut with no Kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Therfites?

Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, whose Wit was mouldy e'er their Grandfires had Nails on their Toes, yoke you like draft Oxen, and make you plough up the wair.

Achil. What! what!
Ther. Yes, good footh, to Achilles, to Ajax, to
Ajax. I shall cut out your Tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou af. terwards.

Pat. No more Words, Therfites.

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles Brach bids me, th all I?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

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Ther, Ther. I will see you fiang'd like Clotpoles, e'er I come any more to your Tents, I will keep where there is wit ftir. ring, and leave the Fadion of Fools.

[Exit. Pat. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry this, Sir, is proclaim'd through all our Hoft, That Hektor, by the fifth hour of the Sun, Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy, To Morrow morning call fome Knight to Arms, That hath a Stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain I know not what: 'Tis trash, farewel.

Ajax. Farewel! who shall answer him?

Achil. I know not, 'tis put to Lotery; otherwise He knew his Man.

Ajax. O, meaning you, I will go learn more of it. [Exit.

SCENE JI. Priam's Palace in Troy.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus.

Pri. After so many hours, lives, Speeches spent,
Thus once again says Neftor from the Greeks,
Deliver Helen, and all damage else
(As Honour, loss of Time, Travel, Expence,
Wounds, Friends, and what else dear, that is consum'd
In not digestion of this Cormorant War)
Shall be struck off. Heftor, what say you to't?

He&t. Though no Man lesser fears the Greeks than I,
As far as touches 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 out, Who knows what follows,
Than Hector is; the wound of Peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is callid
The Beacon of the wife; the Tent that searches
To th'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, nor worth to us
(Had it our Name) the value of one ten;

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