ACT III. SCENE I.

_Enter_ THERSITES.

_Thers._ Shall the idiot Ajax use me thus? he beats me, and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! would I could but beat him, and he railed at me! Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer; if Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. Now the plague on the whole camp, or rather the pox; for that's a curse dependent on those that fight, as we do, for a cuckold's quean.--What, ho, my lord Achilles!

_Enter_ PATROCLUS.

_Patro._ Who's there, Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail.

_Thers._ If I could have remembered an ass with gilt trappings, thou hadst not slipped out of my contemplation. But it is no matter: thyself upon thyself! the common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great abundance! Heavens bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee!--I have said my prayers; and the devil, Envy, say Amen. Where's Achilles?

_Enter_ ACHILLES.

_Achil._ Who's there, Thersites? Why, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself to my table so many meals? Come, begin; what's Agamemnon?

_Thers._ Thy commander, Achilles.--Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?

_Patro._ Thy benefactor, Thersites. Then tell me, pr'ythee, what's thyself?

_Thers._ Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

_Patro._ Thou mayest tell, that knowest.

_Achil._ O, tell, tell.--This must be very foolish; and I die to have my spleen tickled.

_Thers._ I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my benefactor; I am Patroclus's knower; and Patroclus is a fool.

_Patro._ You rascal!

_Achil,_ He is a privileged man; proceed, Thersites. Ha, ha, ha! pr'ythee, proceed, while I am in the vein of laughing.

_Thers._ And all these foresaid men are fools. Agamemnon's a fool, to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool, to be commanded by him; I am a fool, to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.

_Patro._ Why am I a fool?

_Thers._ Make that demand to heaven; it suffices me, thou art one.

_Acini._ Ha, ha, ha! O give me ribs of steel, or I shall split with pleasure.--Now play me Nestor at a night alarm: mimick him rarely; make him cough and spit, and fumble with his gorget, and shake the rivets with his palsy hand, in and out, in and out; gad, that's exceeding foolish.

_Patro._ Nestor shall not escape so; he has told us what we are. Come, what's Nestor?

_Thers._ Why, he is an old wooden top, set up by father Time three hundred years ago, that hums to Agamemnon and Ulysses, and sleeps to all the world besides.

_Achil._ So let him sleep, for I'll no more of him.--O, my Patroclus, I but force a smile; Ajax has drawn the lot, and all the praise of Hector must be his.

_Thers._ I hope to see his praise upon his shoulders, in blows and bruises; his arms, thighs, and body, all full of fame, such fame as he gave me; and a wide hole at last full in his bosom, to let in day upon him, and discover the inside of a fool.

_Patro._ How he struts in expectation of honour! he knows not what he does.

_Thers._ Nay, that's no wonder, for he never did.

_Achil._ Pr'ythee, say how he behaves himself?

_Thers._ O, you would be learning to practise against such another time?--Why, he tosses up his head as he had built castles in the air; and he treads upward to them, stalks into the element; he surveys himself, as it were to look for Ajax: he would be cried, for he has lost himself; nay, he knows nobody; I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax," and he replied, "Thanks, Agamemnon."

_Achil._ Thou shalt be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

_Thers._ No, I'll put on his person; let Patroclus make his demands to me, and you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

_Achil._ To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the noble Hector to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for him from our captain general Agamemnon.

_Patro._ Jove bless the mighty Ajax!

_Thers._ Humh!

_Patro._ I come from the great Achilles.

_Thers._ Ha!

_Patro._ Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent.

_Thers._ Humh!

_Patro._ And to procure him safe conduct from Agamemnon.

_Thers._ Agamemnon?

_Patro._ Ay, my lord.

_Thers._ Ha!

_Patro._ What say you to it?

_Thers._ Farewell, with all my heart.

_Patro._ Your answer, sir?

_Thers._ If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or the other; however, he shall buy me dearly. Fare you well, with all my heart.

_Achil._ Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

_Thers._ No; but he's thus out of tune. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not, nor I care not; but if emptiness makes noise, his head will make melody.

_Achil._ My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; And I myself see not the bottom on't.

_Thers._ Would the fountain of his mind were clear, that he might see an ass in it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [_Aside._

_Enter_ AGAMEMNON, AJAX, DIOMEDES, _and_ MENELAUS.

_Patro._ Look, who comes here.

_Achil._ Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody;--come in after me, Thersites. [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ THERSITES.

_Again._ Where's Achilles?

_Patro._ Within, but ill disposed, my lord.

_Men._ We saw him at the opening of his tent.

_Again._ Let it be known to him, that we are here.

_Patro._ I shall say so to him. [_Exit_ PATROC.

_Diom._ I know he is not sick.

_Ajax._ Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will humour him; but, on my honour, it is no more than pride; and why should he be proud?

_Men._ Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles with him.

_Enter_ PATROCLUS.

_Patro._ Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Did move you to this visit: He's not well, And begs you would excuse him, as unfit For present business.

_Agam._ How! how's this, Patroclus? We are too well acquainted with these answers. Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss. We came to speak with him; you shall not err, If you return, we think him over-proud, And under-honest. Tell him this; and add, That if he overhold his price so much, We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine Not portable, lie lag of all the camp. A stirring dwarf is of more use to us, Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.

_Patro._ I shall, and bring his answer presently.

_Agam._ I'll not be satisfied, but by himself: So tell him, Menelaus. [_Exeunt_ MENELAUS _and_ PATROCLUS.

_Ajax._ What's he more than another?

_Agam._ No more than what he thinks himself.

_Ajax._ Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than me?

_Diom._ No doubt he does.

_Ajax._ Do you think so?

_Agam._ No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant but much more courteous.

_Ajax._ Why should a man be proud? I know not what pride is; I hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

_Diom._ [_Aside._] 'Tis strange he should, and love himself so well.

_Re-enter_ MENELAUS.

_Men._ Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

_Agam._ What's his excuse?

_Men._ Why, he relies on none But his own will; possessed he is with vanity. What should I say? he is so plaguy proud, That the death-tokens of it are upon him, And bode there's no recovery.

_Enter_ ULYSSES _and_ NESTOR.

_Agam._ Let Ajax go to him.

_Ulys._ O Agamemnon, let it not be so. We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes, When they go from Achilles. Shall that proud man Be worshipped by a greater than himself, One, whom we hold our idol? Shall Ajax go to him? No, Jove forbid, And say in thunder, go to him, Achilles.

_Nest._ [_Aside._] O, this is well; he rubs him where it itches.

_Ajax._ If I go to him, with my gauntlet clenched I'll pash him o'er the face.

_Agam._ O no, you shall not go.

_Ajax._ An he be proud with me, I'll cure his pride; a paultry insolent fellow!

_Nest._ How he describes himself! [_Aside._

_Ulys._ The crow chides blackness: [_Aside._]--Here is a man,--but 'tis before his face, and therefore I am silent.

_Nest._ Wherefore are you? He is not envious, as Achilles is.

_Ulys._ Know all the world, he is as valiant.

_Ajax._ A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would a were a Trojan!

_Ulys._ Thank heaven, my lord, you're of a gentle nature; Praise him that got you, her that brought you forth; But he, who taught you first the use of arms, Let Mars divide eternity in two, And give him half. I will not praise your wisdom, Nestor shall do't; but, pardon, father Nestor,-- Were you as green as Ajax, and your brain Tempered like his, you never should excel him, But be as Ajax is.

_Ajax._ Shall I call you father?

_Ulys._ Ay, my good son.

_Diom._ Be ruled by him, lord Ajax.

_Ulys._ There is no staying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket;--please it our great general, I shall impart a counsel, which, observed, May cure the madman's pride.

_Agam._ In my own tent our talk will be more private.

_Ulys._ But nothing without Ajax; He is the soul and substance of my counsels, And I am but his shadow.

_Ajax._ You shall see I am not like Achilles. Let us confer, and I'll give counsel too. [_Exeunt._