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SCENE 11. The Grecian Camp.
. Enter Therlites folus. 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: 0 worthy Satisfa&tion ! would it were otherwise ; that I could beat him, whilft he rail'd at me : 'Sfoot, l'll learn to Conjure and raise Devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful Execrations. Then there's
Achilles, a rare Engineer. If Troy be noi taken 'till these two undermine it, the Walls will stand 'till they fall of themselves. Othou great Thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the King of Gods; and Miercury, lose all the Serpentine Craft of thy Caduceus, if thou take not that little, little, Je's than little, wit fiom them that they have, which Mortarm'd Ignorance it self knows, is to abundant scarce, it will not in Circumvention deliver a Fly from a Spider, without drawing the maffy. Irons and cutting the Web: After this, the Vengeance on the whole Camp, or rather the Bone-ach, for that, methinks, is the Curse deperdant on those that war for a Placket. I have said my Prayers, and Devil, Envy, sy Amen. What hos my Lord Achilles ?
Enter Patroclus. Patr. Who's there? Therfites. Good Therfites, come in and rail.
Ther. If I could have remi mbred a gilt Counter, thou would's not hive slip'd out of my Contemplation, but it is no matter, thy self upon thy felf. The common Curse of Mankind, Foly and Ignorance be thine in great Revenue; Heav'n bless thee from a Tutor, and Discipline come not near thee. Let thy Blood be thy direction 'rill thy Death, then if the that lays thee out, says thou art a fair Coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon’t, she never shrowded any but Latars, Amen. Where's Achilles ?
Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in a Prayer?
Achil. Were, where? art thou come? why, my Cheese, my Digestion why haft thou not served thy self up to my Table, so many Meals? Come, what's Agamemnon?
Ther. Thy Commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles ?
Parr. Thy Lord, Therfites : then tell me, I pray thee, what's thy self?
Ther. Thy Knower, Patroclus : then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?
Patr. Thou may'st tell, that know'ft.
Ther. I'll decline the whole Question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus's Knower, and Patroclus is a Fool.
Patr. You Rascal
Ther. Agamemnon is a Fool, Achilles is a Fool, Therfites is a Fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a Fool.
Achil. Derive this; come.
Ther. 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.
Patr. Why am I a Fool? Enter Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax,
and Chalcas. Ther. Make that demand to the Creator, it suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?
Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no Body: Come in with me, Therlites.
[Exit. Ther. Here is such Patchery, such Jugling, and such Knavery : all the Argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a good quarrel to draw emulatious Fa&ions, and bleed to Death upon : Now the dry Serpigo on the Subje&, and War and Lechery confound all.
Aga. Where is Achilles ?
Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
Let him be told of, lest perchance he think
Patr. I Mall fo say to him.
Ulys. VVe saw him at the opening of his Tent, He is not fick.
Ajax. Yes, Lion-sick, fick of a proud heart: you may call it Melancholy, if you will favour the Man, but by my head, 'tis Pride; but why, why? - let him thew us the cause. A word, my Lord. .
Neft. They will Ajax lack Matter, if he have lost his Argument.
Ulys. No, you see he is his Argument, that has his Argument, Achilles.
Neft. All the better, their Fra&ion is more our wish than their Faction; but it was a strong Counsel that a Fool could disunite.
Ulys. The Amity that Wisdom knits not, Folly may eafily untye.
Enter Patroclus. Here comes Patroclus.
Neft. No Achilles with him?
Patr. Achilles bids me say, he is much forry,
Aga. Hear you, Patroclus;
And like fair Fruit in an unwholsom Dish,
Pat. I shall, and bring his answer presently. [Exile
Aga. In second Voice we'll not be satisfied,
. Ajax. What is he more than ano:her Aga. 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?
Aga. No question.
Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more vractable.
Ajax. Why should a Man be proud ? How dcth Pride grow? I know not what it is. Aga. Your Mind is clearer, Ajax, and your Virtues the
. fairer; he that is proud, cats up himself. Pride is his own Glass, his own Trumpet, his own Chronicle, and whate. ver Praises it felf but in the Deed, devours the Deed in the Praise,
Neft. Yet he loves himself: Is't not strange?
Ulys. He doth rely on none;
Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Ulys. Things small as Nothing, for Requests fake only
Aga. Let Ajax go to him.
Vlys. O, Agamemnon, let it not be so,