Act V, Scene i:
The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES

[Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.]

ACHILLES.:

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.

PATROCLUS.:

Here comes Thersites.

[Enter THERSITES.]

ACHILLES.:

How now, thou core of envy!

Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

THERSITES.:

Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of

idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee.

ACHILLES.:

From whence, fragment?

THERSITES.:

Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

PATROCLUS.:

Who keeps the tent now?

THERSITES.:

The surgeon's box or the patient's wound.

PATROCLUS.:

Well said, Adversity! and what needs these tricks?

THERSITES.:

Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou

art said to be Achilles' male varlet.

PATROCLUS.:

Male varlet, you rogue! What's that?

THERSITES.:

Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of

the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel

in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten

livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas,

limekilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-

simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous

discoveries!

PATROCLUS.:

Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou

to curse thus?

THERSITES.:

Do I curse thee?

PATROCLUS.:

Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur,

no.

THERSITES.:

No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial

skein of sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye,

thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world

is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of nature!

PATROCLUS.:

Out, gall!

THERSITES.:

Finch egg!

ACHILLES.:

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.]

THERSITES.:

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, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR,MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights.]

AGAMEMNON.:

We go wrong, we go wrong.

AJAX.:

No, yonder 'tis;

There, where we see the lights.

HECTOR.:

I trouble you.

AJAX.:

No, not a whit.

ULYSSES.:

Here comes himself to guide you.

[Re-enter ACHILLES.]

ACHILLES.:

Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all.

AGAMEMNON.:

So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night;

Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.

HECTOR.:

Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general.

MENELAUS.:

Good night, my lord.

HECTOR.:

Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.

THERSITES.:

Sweet draught! 'Sweet' quoth a'!

Sweet sink, sweet sewer!

ACHILLES.:

Good night and welcome, both at once, to those

That go or tarry.

AGAMEMNON.:

Good night.

[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS.]

ACHILLES.:

Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed,

Keep Hector company an hour or two.

DIOMEDES.:

I cannot, lord; I have important business,

The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector.

HECTOR.:

Give me your hand.

ULYSSES.:

[Aside to TROILUS]

Follow his torch; he goes to

Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.

TROILUS.:

Sweet sir, you honour me.

HECTOR.:

And so, good night.

[Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following.]

ACHILLES.:

Come, come, enter my tent.

[Exeunt all but THERSITES.]

THERSITES.:

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

Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent. I'll after.

Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets!

[Exit.]