University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Camp.
Nestor, Ulysses.
Ulyss.
I have conceiv'd an embryo in my brain:
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nest.
What is't, Ulysses?

Ulyss.
The feeded pride,
That has to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropt,
Or shedding, breed a nursery of like ill,
To overtop us all.

Nest.
That's my opinion.

Uliss.
This challenge which Æneas brings from Hector,
However it be spred in general terms,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
And will it wake him to the answer think you?

Nest.
It ought to do: whom can we else oppose
Who cou'd from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? the Successe of this
Although particular, will give an Omen
Of good or bad, ev'n to the general cause.

Ulyss.
Pardon me Nestor, if I contradict you.
Therefore 'tis fit Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us like Merchants show our coursest wares,
And think perchance they'll sell: but if they do not,
The lustre of our better yet unshown
Will show the better; let us not consent
Our greatest warriour shou'd be match'd with Hector.
For both our honour and our shame in this,
Shall be attended with strange followers.

Nest.
I see e'm not with my old eyes; what are they?

Ulyss.
What glory our Achilles gains from Hector.
Were he not proud we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent:
And we had better parch in Affrick Sun
Than in his pride, shou'd he scape Hector fair.
But grant he shou'd be foyl'd
Why then our common reputation suffers,
In that of our best Man: No, make a Lottery;
And by device let blockish Ajax draw
The chance to fight with Hector: among our selves
Give him allowance as the braver Man;
For that will physick the great Myrmidon,
Who swells with loud applause; and make him fall
His Crest, if brainless Ajax come safe off.
If not, we yet preserve a fair opinion,
That we have better men.

Nest.
Now I begin to relish thy advice:
Come let us go to Agamemnon straight,
T'inform him of our project.

Ulyss.
'Tis not ripe.
The skilfull Surgeon will not lanch a sore
Till Nature has digested and prepar'd
The growing humours to his healing purpose.
Else must he often grieve the patients sence,
When one incision once well-time'd wou'd serve:
Are not Achilles, and dull Ajax friends?

Nest.
As much as fools can be.

Ulyss.
That knot of friendship first must be unty'd
Ere we can reach our ends; for while they love each other
Both hating us, will draw too strong a byasse,
And all the Camp will lean that way they draw:
For brutall courage is the Soldiers Idoll:
So, if one prove contemptuous, back'd by to ther,
'Twill give the law to cool and sober sence,
And place the power of war in Mad-mens hands.

Nest.
Now I conceive you; were they once divided,
And one of them made ours, that one would check
The others towring growth: and keep both low,
As Instruments, and not as Lords of war.
And this must be by secret coals of envy,
Blown in their brest: comparisons of worth;
Great actions weigh'd of each: and each the best,
As we shall give him voice.

Ulyss.
Here comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites.
Who feeds on Ajax: yet loves him not, because he cannot love.
But as a Species, differing from mankinde,
Hatss all he sees; and rails at all he knows;
But hates them most, from whom he most receives.
Disdaining that his lot shou'd be so low.
That he shou'd want the kindeness which he takes.

Nest.
There's none so fit an Engine: Save ye Thersites.

Ulyss.
Hayl noble Grecian, Thou relief of toyls,
Soul of our mirth, and joy of sullen war.
In whose converse our winter-nights are short,
And Summer-days not tedious.

Thers.
Hang you both.

Nest.
How hang us both!

Thers.
But hang thee first, thou very reverend fool!
Thou sapless Oke, that liv'st by wanting thought.
And now in thy three hundreth year repin'st
Thou should'st be fell'd: hanging's a civil death,
The death of men: thou canst not hang: thy trunk
Is only fit for gallows to hang others.

Nest.
A fine greeting.

Thers.
A fine old Dotard, to repine at hanging
At such an Age! what saw the Gods in thee
That a Cock-Sparrow shou'd but live three years,
And thou shoud'st last three Ages! he's thy better;
He uses life: he treads himself to death.
Thou hast forgot thy use some hdndred years:
Thou stump of Man, thou worn-out broom: thou lumber.

Nest.
I'le hear no more of him, his poyson works;
What curse me for my age!

Ulyss.
Hold, you mistake him, Nestor; 'tis his custome:
What malice is there in a mirthfull scene!
'Tis but a keen-edg'd Sword, spread o're with balme
To heal the wound it makes:

Thers.
Thou beg'st a curse!
May'st thou quit scores then, and be hang'd on Nestor,
Who hangs on thee: thou lead'st him by the nose:
Thou play'st him like a puppet; speak'st within him,
And when thou hast contriv'd some dark design
To loose a thousand Greeks; make dogs meat of us,
Thou layst thy Cuckows egg within his nest,
And mak'st him hatch it: teachest his remembrance
To lye; and say, the like of it was practis'd
Two hundred years ago; thou bring'st the brain
And he brings only beard to vouch thy plots;

Nest.
I'me no mans fool.

Thers.
Then be thy own, that's worse.

Nest.
He'll rail all day.

Ulyss.
Then we shall learn all day.
Who forms the body to a gracefull carriage
Must imitate our awkard motions first;
The same prescription does the wise Thersites
Apply to mend our minds. The same he uses
To Ajax, to Achilles; to the rest;
His Satyrs are the physick of the Camp.

Thers.
Wou'd they were poyson to't, Rats-bane and Hemlock:
Nothing else can mend you; and those two brawny fools.

Ulyss.
He hits e'm right:
Are they not such my Nestor?

Thers.
Dolt-heads, Asses.
And beasts of burthen; Ajax and Achilles!
The pillars, no, the porters of the war.
Hard-headed Rogues! Engines, meer wooden Engines,
Push'd on to do your work.

Nest.
They are indeed.

Thers.
But what a Rogue art thou
To say they are indeed: Heaven made e'm horses
And thou put'st on their harnesse: rid'st and spur'st e'm:
Usurp'st upon heav'ns fools, and mak'st e'm thine.

Nest.
No: they are headstrong fools to be corrected
By none but by Thersites: thou alone
Canst tame, and train e'm to their proper use;
And doing this mayst claim a just reward
From Greece, and Royall Agamemnons hands.

Thers.
Ay, when you need a man, you talk of giving;
For wit's a dear commodity among you:
But when you do not want him, then stale porridge,
A starv'd dog wou'd not lap; and furrow water
Is all the wine we taste, give drabs and pimps:
He have no gifts with hooks at end of e'm.

Ulyss.
Is this a Man, O Nestor to be bought!
Asia's not price enough! bid the world for him.
And shall this man, this Hermes this Apollo,
Sit lagg of Ajax table? almost minstrell,
And with his presence grace a brainless feast?
Why they consence from him grow wits by rote,
And yet, by ill repeating, libell him;
Making his wit their nonsence: nay they scorn him;
Call him bought rayler, mercenary tongue!
Play him for sport at meals, and kick him off.

Thers.
Yes they can kick, my buttocks feel they can:
They have their Asses tricks: but I'le eat pebbles,
Ile starve; 'tis brave to starve, 'tis like a Soldier;
Before I'le feed those wit-starv'd rogues with sence.
They shall eat dry, and choke for want of wit,
Ere they be moisten'd with one drop of mine.
Ajax, and Achilles, two mudd-walls of fool,
That only differ in degrees of thicknesse.

Ulyss.
I'de be reveng'd of both, when wine fumes high,
Set e'm to prate, to boast their brutall strength,
To vye their stupid courage, till they quarrell
And play at hard-head with their empty Skulls.

Thers.
Yes; they shall but and kick; and all the while
Ile think they kick for me: they shall fell timber
On both sides; and then log-wood will be cheap.

Nest.
And Agamemnon—

Thers.
Pox of Agamemnon;
Cannot I do a mischief for my self
But he must thank me for't!
Ulyss. to Nestor.
Away; our work is done.

Exeunt Ulysses, Nestor.
Thers.
This Agamemnon is a King of clouts:
A chip in porredge.

Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Thersites!

Thers.
Set up to frighten Daws from Cherry trees.

Ajax.
Dogg!

Thers.
A standard to march under!

Ajax.
Thou bitch-woolf! canst thou not hear! feel then.

Strikes him.
Thers.
The plague of Greece, and Hellens Pox light on thee,
Thou mungrill mastiffe; thou beef-witted Lord.

Ajax.
Speak then, thou mouldy leaven of the Camp.
Speak or Ile beat thee into handsomeness.

Thirs.
I shall sooner rayle thee into wit: thou canst kick, canst thou?
A red murrayn on thy Jades tricks!

Ajax.
Tell me the Proclamation:

Thers.
Thou art proclaim'd a fool I think.

Ajax.
You whorson Cur take that.

[Strikes him.
Thers.
Thou Scurvy valiant Asse.

Ajax.
Thou slave.

Thers.

Thou Lord!—I, do, do,—wou'd my buttocks were Iron
for thy sake.

Enter Achilles. Patroclus.
Achill.
Why how now Ajax! wherefore do you this?
How now Thersites, what's the matter man!

Thers.

I say this Ajax wears his wit in's belly, and his guts in brains.

Achill.

Peace fool.

Thers.

I wou'd have peace; but the fool will not.

Prtrocl.

But what's the quarrell!

Ajax.

I bad him tell me the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Thers.

I serve thee not:

Ajax.

I shall cut out your tongue!

Thers.

'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much sence as thou afterwards:
Ile see you hang'd ere I come any more to your Tent: Ile keep where
theres wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.—

[going.
Achill.

Nay, thou shalt not go Thersites, till we have squees'd the
venome out of thee: prithee inform us of this Proclamation.

Thers.

Why you empty fuz-balls, your heads are full of nothing else
but Proclamations.

Ajax.

Tell us the news I say.

Thirs.

You say! why you never said any thing in all your life!
But since you will know, 'tis proclaim'd through the Army, that Hector
is to cudgell you to morrow.

Achilles.

How cudgell him, Thersites!

Thers.

Nay, you may take a childs part ont if you have so much courage,
for Hector has challeng'd the toughest of the Greeks: and 'tis in
dispute which of your two heads is the sonndest timber.

A knotty piece of work he'll have betwixt your noddles,

Achill.
If Hector be to fight with any Greeke,
He knows his Man.

Ajax.
Yes; he may know his man, without Art Magick.

Thers.

So he had need: for to my certain knowledge neither of you
two are conjurers to inform him.

Achill.
to Ajax.

You do not mean your self, sure.

Ajax.

I mean nothing.

Thers.

Thou mean'st so always.

Achill.

Umh! mean nothing!

Thers.
aside.

Jove if it be thy will, let these two fools quarrell about
nothing: 'tis a cause that's worthy of 'em.

Ajax.
You sayd he knew his Man: is there but one?
One Man amongst the Greeks!

Achill.
Since you will have it,
but one to fight with Hector.

Ajax.
Then I am he;

Achill.

Weak Ajax.

Ajax.

Weak Achilles.

Thers.

Weak indeed: God help you both!

Patroc.

Come, this must be no quarrell.

Thers,

There's no cause for't.

Patroc.

He tells you true; you are both equall

Thers.

Fools.

Achill.

I can brook no comparisons.

Ajax.

Nor I.

Achill.

Well Ajax.

Ajax.

Well Achilles.

Thers.

So now they quarrell in Monosyllables: A word and a blow,
and't be thy will.

Achill.

You may hear more.

Ajax.

I wou'd.

Achill.

Expect,

Ajax.

Farewell.

Exeunt severally.
Thers.

Curse on them, they want wine; your true fool will never fight
without it. Or a drab a drab: Oh for a commodious Drabb betwixt
'em! wou'd Hellen had been here! then it had come to something.

Dogs, Lyons, Bulls, for Females tear and gore:
And the Beast Man, is valiant for his whore.
Exit Thersites.