페이지 이미지
PDF
ePub

If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices : If he fail,
Yet

go we under our opinion still,
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our proje&t's life this shape of sense assumes,-
Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.

Neft. Ulyffes,
Now I begin to relish thy advice;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon: go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other; Pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

А ст ІІ.

SCEN E I.

The Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax, and Therfites.
Ajax. Thersites,

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils ? full, all over, generally?

[Talking to himself. Ajax. Thersites,

Ther. And those boils did run?_Say so, did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core?

Ajax. Dog,

Ther. Then there would come some matter from him ; I see none now.

Our proje&t's life]–Our success absolutely depends on the selection of Ajax for this encounter.

Muf tarre the mastiff's on, &c.]-Urge them to engage, serve as the bone of contention.

boils ? ]-biles,
a botrby core ?]-a fore head.
D

Ajax,

[ocr errors]

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, can'st thou not hear? Feel then.

[Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel % beef-witted lord !

Ajax. Speak then, thou " vinied'st leaven, fpeak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? i a red murrain o'thy jade’s tricks!

Ajax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.
Ther. Doft thou think, I have no sense, thou strik'st

me thus ?

Ajax. The proclamation -
Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I 'think.
Ajax. Do not, * porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.

Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomeft fcab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as now as another.

Ajax. I say, the proclamation,

Ther. Thou grumbleft 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 bark'st at him.

Ajax. Mistress Therlites !
Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.

h

& beef-witted]-half-witted. I am a great eater of beef, and, I “ believe, that does harm to my wit..

TWELFTH NICHT, Vol. II. p. 480. Sir And. vinied's leaven]-piece of mouldy dough- unsalted : wbinnid't baven-most crooked faggot-stick. i a red murrain—" Ibe red plague rid you."

TEMPEST, Vol. I. p. 20. Cal. k porcupine, )-porpentine.

Fibe loathsomesi scab in Greece.]-alluding to the Elephantiasis, or Lepra Græcorum.

• an assinego

Ajax. "Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a failor breaks a bisket. Ajax. You whoreson cur !

[Beating him. Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou stool for a witch!

Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord ! thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows; may tutor thee: Thou scurvy valiant ass! thou art here put to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian Nave. 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 !

Ajax. You dog!
Tber. You scurvy lord !
Ajax. You cur!

[Beating him. Ther. Mars his ideot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter Achilles, and Patroclus.
Acbil. Why, how now, Ajax ? wherefore do you thus?
How now, Therfites? what's the matter, man?

Ther. You see him there, do you?
Acbil. Ay; What's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.
Achil. So I do; What's the matter?
Tber. Nay, but regard him well.
Acbil. Well, why I do fo.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him : for, who . soever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Acbil. I know that, fool.

Cobloaf!)--Crusty and uneven.

pun tbee into fhivers)-pound thee into atoms, small fragments, or pieces.

an affinego]-a little ass. ? of no bowels, 1—without feeling. D 2

Tber.

[ocr errors]

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax. 9 Therefore I beat thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what'modicums of wit he utters! his 'evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain, more than he has beat my bones; I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax,– who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, -I'll tell you what I say of him.

Achil. What ?
Ther. I say, this Ajax
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

[-Ajax offers to strike bim, Achilles interposes. 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 !

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not : he there; that he ; look

you

there.
Ajax. O thou damn'd 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.
Patr. Good words, Thersites.
Achil. What's the quarrel ?

Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.
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.

Therefore]-For that saying. I modicums)-small portions. evafons]-escapes, excursions of genius, Rights of fancy.

Tber.

Ther. Even so ?-a great deal of your wit too lies in your finews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains ; 'a were as good crack a fufty nut with no kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Therfites ?

Ther. There's Ulysses and old Nestor,—whose wit was mouldy ere your grandfires had nails on their toes,--yoke you like draft oxen, and make you plough up the war. Achil. What, what? Tber. Yes, good footh ; To, Achilles ! to, Ajax! to! Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter ; I shall speak as much as thou, afterwards.

Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace.

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles'' brach bids me, thall I?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Tber. I will see you hang’d, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

[Exit. Patr. A good riddance. Acbil. Marry this, fir, is proclaim'd through all our

hoft:
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the fun,
Will, with a trumpet, 'cwixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call fome knight to arms,
That hath a stomach ; and such a one, that dare
Maintain—I know not what; 'tis trash : Farewell.

Ajax, Farewell. Who shall answer him?

Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise, He knew his man. Ajax. O, meaning you :-I'll go learn more of it.

[Exeunt. i brach]-spaniel.

"SCENE

D3

« 이전계속 »