ENE. There is expectance here from both the sides, HECT. DIO. "T is Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles To the expecters of our Trojan part; Desire them home.-Give me thy hand, my cousin; AJAX. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. HECT. The worthiest of them tell me name by name; But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes Shall find him by his large and portly size. AGAM. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of such an enemy; But that's no welcome: Understand more clear, What's past, and what 's to come, is strew'd with husks But in this extant moment, faith and troth, From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. [TO TROILUS ENE. The noble Menelaus. HECT. O you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks! Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath; Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove; MEN. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. NEST. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen thee, And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements, And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, HECT. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:- NEST. I would my arms could match thee in contention, As they contend with thee in courtesy. HECT. I would they could. NEST. Ha! By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. ULYSS. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: HECT. I must not believe you: There they stand yet; and modestly I think, Will one day end it. ULYSS. So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome: To feast with me, and see me at my tent. ACHIL. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou! HECT. ACHIL. I am Achilles. Is this Achilles? HECT. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. HECT. Nay, I have done already ACHIL. Thou art too brief; I will the second time, HEOT. O, like a book of sport thou 'lt read me o'er; ACHIL. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name; And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector's great spirit flew: Answer me, heavens! HECT. It would discredit the bless'd gods, proud man, To answer such a question: Stand again: Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly, Where thou wilt hit me dead? ACHIL. I tell thee, yea. HECT. Wert thou the oracle to tell me so, I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er.— But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, AJAX. HECT. I pray you, let us see you in the field; ACHIL. HECT. Thy hand upon that match. As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, [Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES. TRO. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? ULYSS. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; Who neither looks on heaven, nor on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid. TRO. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to thee so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither? ULYSS. You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there, TRO. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? [Exeunt. ACT V SCENE I-The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent. Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. ACHIL. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.— Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. PATR. Here comes Thersites. ACHIL. Enter THERSITES. How now, thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? THER. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee. ACHIL. From whence, fragment? THER. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. PATR. Who keeps the tent now? THER. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. PATR. Well said, Adversity! and what need these tricks? THER. Prithee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet. PATR. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that? THER. Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirtrotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries! PATR. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? |