Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)
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Troylus and Cressida.
¶In ranke Achilles, must or now be cropt,
¶To ouer-bulke vs all.
¶Nest. Wel, and how?
¶How euer it is spred in general name,
790Relates in purpose onely to Achilles.
¶And in the publication make no straine,
¶But that Achilles, were his braine as barren
795As bankes of Lybia, though (Apollo knowes)
¶'Tis dry enough, wil with great speede of iudgement,
¶I, with celerity, finde Hectors purpose
¶Pointing on him.
¶That can from Hector bring his Honor off,
¶If not Achilles; though't be a sportfull Combate,
¶Yet in this triall, much opinion dwels.
¶Our imputation shall be oddely poiz'd
¶Of good or bad, vnto the Generall:
¶Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,
¶Makes Merit her election, and doth boyle
¶As 'twere, from forth vs all: a man distill'd
¶Out of our Vertues; who miscarrying,
¶What heart from hence receyues the conqu'ring part
¶Which entertain'd, Limbes are in his instruments,
¶Directiue by the Limbes.
825Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector:
¶And thinke perchance they'l sell: If not,
830That euer Hector and Achilles meete:
¶For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
¶Are dogg'd with two strange Followers.
835(Were he not proud) we all should weare with him:
¶But he already is too insolent,
¶And we were better parch in Affricke Sunne,
¶Should he scape Hector faire. If he were foyld,
840Why then we did our maine opinion crush
¶In taint of our best man. No, make a Lott'ry,
¶And by deuice let blockish Aiax draw
¶Giue him allowance as the worthier man,
845For that will physicke the great Myrmidon
¶Who broyles in lowd applause, and make him fall
¶His Crest, that prouder then blew Iris bends.
850Yet go we vnder our opinion still,
¶Aiax imploy'd, pluckes downe Achilles Plumes.
855And I wil giue a taste of it forthwith
¶To Agamemnon, go we to him straight:
¶Two Curres shal tame each other, Pride alone
Exeunt
¶
Enter Aiax, and Thersites.
¶Ther. Agamemnon, how if he had Biles (ful) all ouer
¶generally.
865General run, were not that a botchy core?
¶Aia. Dogge.
¶I see none now.
870Feele then.
Strikes him.
¶Ther. The plague of Greece vpon thee thou Mungrel
¶beefe-witted Lord.
¶thou? A red Murren o'th thy Iades trickes.
¶Aia. The Proclamation.
¶Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a foole, I thinke.
¶Aia. Do not Porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.
885I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loth-
¶chilles, and thou art as ful of enuy at his greatnes, as Cer-
¶Aia. Coblofe.
895a Sailor breakes a bisket.
¶no more braine then I haue in mine elbows: An Asinico
¶to beat me, I wil begin at thy heele, and tel what thou art
¶by inches, thou thing of no bowels thou.
905Aia. You dogge.
¶Aia. You Curre.
¶Ther. Mars his Ideot: do rudenes, do Camell, do, do.
¶
Enter Achilles, and Patroclus.
910Achil. Why how now Aiax? wherefore do you this?
¶How now Thersites? what's the matter man?
¶Achil. I, what's the matter.
¶Ther. Nay looke vpon him.
915Achil. So I do: what's the matter?
Ther.
