| ACT II SCENE I | A part of the Grecian camp. | |
| [Enter AJAX and THERSITES] |
| AJAX | Thersites! |
| THERSITES | Agamemnon, how if he had boils? full, all over, |
| generally? |
| AJAX | Thersites! |
| THERSITES | And those boils did run? say so: did not the | 5 |
| general run then? were not that a botchy core? |
| AJAX | Dog! |
| THERSITES | Then would come some matter from him; I see none now. |
| AJAX | Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? |
[Beating him] |
| Feel, then. | 10 |
| THERSITES | The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel |
| beef-witted lord! |
| AJAX | Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, speak: I will |
| beat thee into handsomeness. |
| THERSITES | I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, | 15 |
| I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than |
| thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, |
| canst thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! |
| AJAX | Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. |
| THERSITES | Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? | 20 |
| AJAX | The proclamation! |
| THERSITES | Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. |
| AJAX | Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch. |
| THERSITES | I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had |
| the scratching of thee; I would make thee the | 25 |
| loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in |
| the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. |
| AJAX | I say, the proclamation! |
| THERSITES | Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, |
| and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as | 30 |
| Cerberus is at Proserpine's beauty, ay, that thou |
| barkest at him. |
| AJAX | Mistress Thersites! |
| THERSITES | Thou shouldest strike him. |
| AJAX | Cobloaf! | 35 |
| THERSITES | He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a |
| sailor breaks a biscuit. |
| AJAX | [Beating him] You whoreson cur!
|
| THERSITES | Do, do. |
| AJAX | Thou stool for a witch! | 40 |
| THERSITES | Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no |
| more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego |
| may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art |
| here but to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and |
| sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. | 45 |
| 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! |
| THERSITES | You scurvy lord! | 50 |
| AJAX | [Beating him] You cur!
|
| THERSITES | Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. |
| [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] |
| ACHILLES | Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you thus? How now, |
| Thersites! what's the matter, man? |
| THERSITES | You see him there, do you? | 55 |
| ACHILLES | Ay; what's the matter? |
| THERSITES | Nay, look upon him. |
| ACHILLES | So I do: what's the matter? |
| THERSITES | Nay, but regard him well. |
| ACHILLES | 'Well!' why, I do so. | 60 |
| THERSITES | But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you |
| take him to be, he is Ajax. |
| ACHILLES | I know that, fool. |
| THERSITES | Ay, but that fool knows not himself. |
| AJAX | Therefore I beat thee. | 65 |
| THERSITES | Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his |
| evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed 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 nineth part of a sparrow. This lord, | 70 |
| Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and |
| his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of |
| him. |
| ACHILLES | What? |
| THERSITES | I say, this Ajax-- | 75 |
| [Ajax offers to beat him] |
| ACHILLES | Nay, good Ajax. |
| THERSITES | Has not so much wit-- |
| ACHILLES | Nay, I must hold you. |
| THERSITES | As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he |
| comes to fight. | 80 |
| ACHILLES | Peace, fool! |
| THERSITES | 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-- |
| ACHILLES | Will you set your wit to a fool's? | 85 |
| THERSITES | No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it. |
| PATROCLUS | Good words, Thersites. |
| ACHILLES | What's the quarrel? |
| AJAX | I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the |
| proclamation, and he rails upon me. | 90 |
| THERSITES | I serve thee not. |
| AJAX | Well, go to, go to. |
| THERSITES | I serve here voluntarily. |
| ACHILLES | Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not |
| voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was | 95 |
| here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. |
| THERSITES | E'en so; a great deal of your wit, too, lies in your |
| sinews, or else there be liars. Hector have a great |
| catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a' |
| were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. | 100 |
| ACHILLES | What, with me too, Thersites? |
| THERSITES | There's Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy |
| ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you |
| like draught-oxen and make you plough up the wars. |
| ACHILLES | What, what? | 105 |
| THERSITES | Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to! |
| AJAX | I shall cut out your tongue. |
| THERSITES | 'Tis no matter! I shall speak as much as thou |
| afterwards. |
| PATROCLUS | No more words, Thersites; peace! | 110 |
| THERSITES | I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? |
| ACHILLES | There's for you, Patroclus. |
| THERSITES | I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come |
| any more to your tents: I will keep where there is |
| wit stirring and leave the faction of fools. | 115 |
| [Exit] |
| PATROCLUS | A good riddance. |
| ACHILLES | Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host: |
| That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, |
| 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. |
| AJAX | Farewell. Who shall answer him? |
| ACHILLES | I know not: 'tis put to lottery; otherwise |
| He knew his man. | 125 |
| AJAX | O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it. |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida: Scenes and Commentary