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There they stand yet; and modestly I think,
Ulys. So to him we leave it.
Achil. I shall forestal thee, lord Ulysses, thou:
Heft. Is this Achilles ?
Achil. Thou art too brief. I will the second time,
Heft. O, like a book of sport thou’lt read me o’er:
Achil. Tell me, you heav'ns, in which part of his body
Hect. It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
Achil. I tell thee, yea.
Heft. Wert thou the oracle to tell me so,
Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin;
Achil. Dost thou intreat me, HeEtor?
Heet. Thy band upon that match.
Aga. First, all you peers of Greece go to my tent,
S CE NE X.
Manent Troilus and Ulysses. Troi. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech
you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
Ulys. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus;
Troi. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to thee so much,
Ulys. You shall.command me, Sir:
Troi. O Sir, to such as boasting shew their scars,
SCENE before Achilles's tent in the Grecian Camp.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy? Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news ?
Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seem'st, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Ther. Pr’ythee be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk ; thou art thought to be Achilles's male-varler.
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'ch' back, lethargies, cold pallies," t raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impostume, sciatica’s, lime-kilns i'ch' palme, incurable bone-ake, and the rivelld fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries. VOL VI. N
+ What follows is added out of the first edition.
Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean'st thou to curse thus ?
Thér. Do I curse thee?
Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of lley'd filk: thou green sarcenet Alap for a sore eye ; thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pester'd with such water-fies, diminutives of nature.
Patr. Our gall!
Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
[Exit. Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two may run mad: but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of mad-men. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he hath 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 shooing-born in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg; to what form, but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice * farced with wit turn him to? to an als 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, . forced