Act 2 — Scene I. The Grecian camp.[1262]

Ajax. Thersites! Ther. Agamemnon—how if he had boils—full, all[1263] over, generally?[1264] Ajax. Thersites! Ther. And those boils did run?—Say so,—did not the 5 general run then? were not that a botchy core?[1265] Ajax. Dog! Ther. Then would come some matter from him; I see[1266] none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? 10 Feel, then. [Strikes him.[1267] Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou vinewed'st leaven, speak: I[1268] will beat thee into handsomeness. 15 Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou[1269] learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst[1270] thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks![1271] Ajax. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.[1272] 20 Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? Ajax. The proclamation! Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.[1273] Ajax. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.[1274] 25 Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions,[1275] thou strikest as slow as another.[1275] Ajax. I say, the proclamation! 30 Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.[1276] Ajax. Mistress Thersites![1277] Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.[1278] 35 Ajax. Cobloaf![1278][1279] Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a[1278][1280] sailor breaks a biscuit. Ajax. [Beating him] You whoreson cur![1281][1282] Ther. Do, do.[1283] 40 Ajax. Thou stool for a witch! Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast[1284] no more brain than I have in my elbows; an assinego[1285] may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but[1286] to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among[1287] 45 those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou![1288] Ajax. You dog! Ther. You scurvy lord! 50 Ajax. [Beating him] You cur![1281] Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel, do, do.

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do ye thus?[1290] How now, Thersites! what's the matter, man? Ther. You see him there, do you? 55 Achil. Ay; what's the matter? Ther. Nay, look upon him. Achil. So I do: what's the matter? Ther. Nay, but regard him well. Achil. 'Well!' why, so I do.[1291] 60 Ther. But yet you look not well upon him; for, whosoever[1292] you take him to be, he is Ajax. Achil. I know that, fool. Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 65 Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more[1293] than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a[1294] penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in 70 his belly and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say[1295] of him. Achil. What? Ther. I say, this Ajax— [Ajax offers to strike him.[1296] Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 75 Ther. Has not so much wit— Achil. Nay, I must hold you. Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. Achil. Peace, fool! 80 Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there: that he: look you there! Ajax. O thou damned cur! I shall— Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it.[1297] 85 Patr. Good words, Thersites.[1298] Achil. What's the quarrel? Ajax. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the[1299] proclamation, and he rails upon me. Ther. I serve thee not. 90 Ajax. Well, go to, go to. Ther. I serve here voluntary. Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. 95 Ther. E'en so; a great deal of your wit too lies in[1300] your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a' were[1301] as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. Achil. What, with me too, Thersites? 100 Ther. There's Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke[1302] you like draught-oxen, and make you plough up the wars.[1303] Achil. What? what? Ther. Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to![1304] 105 Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. Ther. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou[1305] afterwards. Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace![1306] Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brooch bids[1307] 110 me, shall I? Achil. There's for you, Patroclus. Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come[1308] any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. [Exit. 115 Patr. A good riddance. Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host: That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,[1309] Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy To-morrow morning call some knight to arms 120 That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain—I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.[1310] Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him?[1311] Achil. I know not; 'tis put to lottery; otherwise He knew his man. 125 Ajax. O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it.[1312]