Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: W. L. Godshalk
Peer Reviewed

Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)


2870
Enter Achilles, and Patroclus.
Achil. Ile heat his blood with Greekish wine to night,
Which with my Cemitar Ile coole to morrow:
Patroclus, let vs Feast him to the hight.
Pat. Heere comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites.
2875Achil. How now, thou core of Enuy?
Thou crusty batch of Nature, what's the newes?
Ther. Why thou picture of what thou seem'st, & Idoll
of Ideot-worshippers, here's a Letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, Fragment?
2880Ther. Why thou full dish of Foole, from Troy.
Pat. Who keepes the Tent now?
Ther. The Surgeons box, or the Patients wound.
Patr. Well said aduersity, and what need these tricks?
Ther. Prythee be silent boy, I profit not by thy talke,
2885thou art thought to be Achilles male Varlot.
Patro. Male Varlot you Rogue? What's that?
Ther. Why his masculine Whore. Now the rotten
diseases of the South, guts-griping Ruptures, Catarres,
Loades a grauell i'th'backe, Lethargies, cold Palsies, and
2890the like, take and take againe, such prepostrous discoue-
ries.
Pat. Why thou damnable box of enuy thou, what
mean'st thou to curse thus?
Ther. Do I curse thee?
2895Patr. Why no, you ruinous But, you whorson indi-
stinguishable Curre.
Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle,
immateriall skiene of Sleyd silke; thou greene Sarcenet
flap for a sore eye, thou tassell of a Prodigals purse thou:
2900Ah how the poore world is pestred with such water-flies,
diminutiues of Nature.
Pat. Out gall.
Ther. Finch Egge.
Ach. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
2905From my great purpose in to morrowes battell:
Heere is a Letter from Queene Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my faire Loue,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keepe
An Oath that I haue sworne. I will not breake it,
2910Fall Greekes, faile Fame, Honor or go, or stay,
My maior vow lyes heere; this Ile obay:
Come, come Thersites, helpe to trim my Tent,
This night in banquetting must all be spent.
Away Patroclus.
Exit.
2915Ther. With too much bloud, and too little Brain, these
two may run mad: but if with too much braine, and too
little blood, they do, Ile be a curer of madmen. Heere's
Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loues
Quailes, but he has not so much Braine as eare-wax; and
2920the goodly transformation of Iupiter there his Brother,
the Bull, the primatiue Statue, and oblique memoriall of
Cuckolds, a thrifty shooing-horne in a chaine, hanging
at his Brothers legge, to what forme but that he is, shold
wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turne
2925him too: to an Asse were nothing; hee is both Asse and
Oxe; to an Oxe were nothing, hee is both Oxe and Asse:
to be a Dogge, a Mule, a Cat, a Fitchew, a Toade, a Li-
zard, an Owle, a Puttocke, or a Herring without a Roe,
I would not care: but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
2930against Destiny. Aske me not what I would be, if I were
not Thersites: for I care not to bee the lowse of a Lazar,
so I were not Menelaus. Hoy-day, spirits and fires.
Enter Hector, Aiax, Agamemnon, Vlysses, Ne-
stor, Diomed, with Lights.
2935Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong.
Aiax. No yonder 'tis, there where we see the light.
Hect. I trouble you.
Aiax. No, not a whit.
Enter Achilles.
2940Vlys. Heere comes himselfe to guide you?
Achil. Welcome braue Hector, welcome Princes all.
Agam. So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid goodnight,
Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.
Hect. Thanks, and goodnight to the Greeks general.
2945Men. Goodnight my Lord.
Hect. Goodnight sweet Lord Menelaus.
Ther. Sweet draught: sweet quoth-a? sweet sinke,
sweet sure.
Achil. Goodnight and welcom, both at once, to those
2950that go, or tarry.
Aga. Goodnight.
Achil. Old Nestor tarries, and you too Diomed,
Keepe Hector company an houre, or two.
Dio. I cannot Lord, I haue important businesse,
2955The tide whereof is now, goodnight great Hector.
Hect. Giue me your hand.
Ulys. Follow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent,
Ile keepe you company.
Troy. Sweet sir, you honour me.
2960Hect. And so good night.
Achil. Come, come, enter my Tent.
Exeunt.
Ther. That same Diomed's a false-hearted Rogue, a
most vniust Knaue; I will no more trust him when hee
leeres, then I will a Serpent when he hisses: he will spend
2965his mouth & promise, like Brabler the Hound; but when
he performes, Astronomers foretell it, that it is prodigi-
ous, there will come some change: the Sunne borrowes
of the Moone when Diomed keepes his word. I will ra-
ther leaue to see Hector, then not to dogge him: they say,
2970he keepes a Troyan Drab, and vses the Traitour Chalcas
his Tent. Ile after---Nothing but Letcherie? All
incontinent Varlets.
Exeunt