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Not letting it decline on the declin'd*;
Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
tention, As they contend with thee in courtesy.
Hect. I would they could.
Nest. Ha! By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time
Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands, When we have here her base and pillar by us.
Hect. I know your favour, lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomed In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet. Hect.
I must not believe you; There they stand yet; and modestly I think, The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost A drop of Grecian blood : The end crowns all;
And that old common arbitrator, time,
So to him we leave it.
Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou! Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perus’d thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint. Hect.
Is this Achilles ? Achil. I am Achilles. Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. Achil. Behold thy fill. Hect.
Nay, I have done already. Achil. Thou art too brief; I will the second time, As I could buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
Hect. 0, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? Achil.. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his
I tell thee, yea.
+ Forename, | Stithy is a smith's shop.
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.-
Do not chafe thee, cousin ;-
Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field;
Dost thou entreat me, Hector
Thy hand upon that match. Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my
tent; There in the full convivet we: afterwards, As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat bim. Beat loud the tabourines g, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.
(Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses. Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid. Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so
much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither?
# Inclination. * Feast,
You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?
Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord ? She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth : But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.
SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles'
Enter Achilles and Patroclus. Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to.
night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Patr. Here comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites. Achil.
How now, thou core of eavy? Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Patr. Well said, Adversity*! and what need these tricks?
Ther. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by
thy talk : thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.
Patr. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now the rot. ten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i'the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivelled feesimple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!
Patr. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?
Ther. Do I curse thee?
Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, uo.
Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleive silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies; diminutives of nature!
Putr. Out, gall !
Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
[Ereunt Achilles and Patroclus. 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
* Coarse, unwrought.