Thersites

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: O, worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare enginer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves, O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less than little wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse depending on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles!

Patroclus

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

Thersites

If I could ha' remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have 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 revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?

Patroclus

What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?

Thersites

Ay: the heavens hear me!

Patroclus

Amen

Achilles

Who's there?

Patroclus

Thersites, my lord.

Achilles

Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon?

Thersites

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

Patroclus

Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's Thersites?

Thersites

Thy knower, Patroclus; then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patroclus

Thou must tell that knowest.

Achilles

O, tell, tell.

Thersites

I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower, and Patroclus is a fool.

Patroclus

You rascal!

Thersites

Peace, fool! I have not done.

Achilles

He is a privileged man. Proceed, Thersites.

Thersites

Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.

Achilles

Derive this; come.

Thersites

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 this Patroclus is a fool positive.

Patroclus

Why am I a fool?

Thersites

Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?

Achilles

Come, Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites.

Thersites

Here is such patchery, such juggling and such knavery! all the argument is a whore and a cuckold; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now, the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all!

Agamemnon

Where is Achilles?

Patroclus

Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord.

Agamemnon

Let it be known to him that we are here.

He shent our messengers; and we lay by

Our appertainings, visiting of him:

Let him be told so; lest perchance he think

We dare not move the question of our place,

Or know not what we are.

Patroclus

I shall say so to him. Exit.

Ulysses

We saw him at the opening of his tent:

He is not sick.

Ajax

Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: but why, why? let him show us a cause. A word, my lord.

Nestor

What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?

Ulysses

Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Nestor

Who, Thersites?

Ulysses

He.

Nestor

Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.

Ulysses

No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument, Achilles.

Nestor

All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction: but it was a strong composure a fool could disunite.

Ulysses

The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.

Nestor

No Achilles with him.

Ulysses

The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.

Patroclus

Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,

If any thing more than your sport and pleasure

Did move your greatness and this noble state

To call upon him; he hopes it is no other

But for your health and your digestion sake,

An after-dinner's breath.

Agamemnon

Hear you, Patroclus:

We are too well acquainted with these answers:

But his evasion, winged thus swift with scorn,

Cannot outfly our apprehensions.

Much attribute he hath, and much the reason

Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues,

Not virtuously on his own part beheld,

Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss,

Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,

Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,

We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,

If you do say we think him overproud

And under-honest, in self-assumption greater

Than in the note of judgement; and worthier than himself

Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,

Disguise the holy strength of their command,

And underwrite in an observing kind

His humorous predominance; yea, watch

His pettish lines, his ebbs, his flows, as if

The passage and whole carriage of this action

Rode on his tide. Go 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 under this report:

“Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:

A stirring dwarf we do allowance give

Before a sleeping giant.” Tell him so.

Patroclus

I shall; and bring his answer presently. Exit.

Agamemnon

In second voice we'll not be satisfied;

We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. Exit Ulysses.

Ajax

What is he more than another?

Agamemnon

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?

Agamemnon

No question.

Ajax

Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?

Agamemnon

No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax

Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is.

Agamemnon

Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Ajax

I do hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.

Nestor

And yet he loves himself: is't not strange?

Ulysses

Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

Agamemnon

What's his excuse?

Ulysses

He doth rely on none,

But carries on the stream of his dispose

Without observance or respect of any,

In will peculiar and in self-admission.

Agamemnon

Why will he not upon our fair request

Untent his person and share the air with us?

Ulysses

Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,

He makes important: possessed he is with greatness,

And speaks not to himself but with a pride

That quarrels at self-breath: imagined worth

Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse

That 'twixt his mental and his active parts

Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages

And batters down himself: what should I say?

He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it

Cry “No recovery.”

Agamemnon

Let Ajax go to him.

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent:

'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led

At your request a little from himself.

Ulysses

O Agamemnon, let it not be so!

We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes

When they go from Achilles: shall the proud lord

That bastes his arrogance with his own seam

And never suffers matter of the world

Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve

And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipped

Of that we hold an idol more than he?

No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord

Shall not so stale his palm, nobly acquired;

Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,

As amply titled as Achilles is,

By going to Achilles:

That were to enlard his fat-already pride

And add more coals to Cancer when he burns

With entertaining great Hyperion.

This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid,

And say in thunder “Achilles go to him.”

Nestor

Aside to Dio. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

Diomedes

Aside to Nest. And how his silence drinks up his applause!

Ajax

If I go to him, with my armed fist

I'll pash him o'er the face.

Agamemnon

O, no, you shall not go.

Ajax

And he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride:

Let me go to him.

Ulysses

Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.

Ajax

A paltry, insolent fellow!

Nestor

How he describes himself!

Ajax

Can he not be sociable?

Ulysses

The raven chides blackness.

Ajax

I'll let his humours blood.

Agamemnon

He will be the physician that should be the patient.

Ajax

An all men were of my mind, —

Ulysses

Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax

'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat swords first: shall pride carry it?

Nestor

An 'twould, you'ld carry half.

Ulysses

'A would have ten shares.

Ajax

I will knead him; I'll make him supple.

Nestor

He's not yet through warm: force him with praises: pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

Ulysses

to Agam. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

Nestor

Our noble general, do not do so.

Diomedes

You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Ulysses

Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm.

Here is a man — but 'tis before his face;

I will be silent.

Nestor

Wherefore should you so?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulysses

Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax

A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us thus!

Would he were a Trojan!

Nestor

What a vice were it in Ajax now, —

Ulysses

If he were proud, —

Diomedes

Or covetous of praise, —

Ulysses

Ay, or surly borne, —

Diomedes

Or strange, or self-affected!

Ulysses

Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure;

Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:

Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature

Thrice famed beyond, beyond all erudition:

But he that disciplined thine arms to fight,

Let Mars divide eternity in twain,

And give him half: and, for thy vigour,

Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,

Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines

Thy spacious and dilated parts: here's Nestor;

Instructed by the antiquary times,

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:

But pardon, father Nestor, were your days

As green as Ajax' and your brain so tempered,

You should not have the eminence of him,

But be as Ajax.

Ajax

Shall I call you father?

Nestor

Ay, my good son.

Diomedes

Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.

Ulysses

There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles

Keeps thicket. Please it our great general

To call together all his state of war;

Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow

We must with all our main of power stand fast:

And here's a lord, — come knights from east to west,

And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.

Agamemnon

Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:

Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. Exeunt.