1

Vhy, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.
rino keeps the Tent now?
The Surgeon's Box, or the Patient's Wound.
Well said, Adversity; and what need these Tricks?
Prithee be filent, Boy, I profit not by thy talk,
thought to be Achilles's Male-Varlet.
Vale Varlet, you Rogue? What's that?

Why, his masculine Whore. Now the rotten Dil-
the South, Guts-griping, Ruptures, Catarrhs, loads

i'th' Backs, Lethargies, cold Palfies, and the like,
::ake again such preposterous Discoveries.
Why, thou damnable Box of Envy, thou, what

hou to Curse thus?
- Do I Curse thee?

". Why no, you ruinous Butt, you whoreson indiwithable Cure

Fluor. No? Why art thou then exasperate, thou idle im--*** *1 Skein of ney'd Silk; thou green Sarcener flap for a

Fve; thou Tassel of a Prodigal's Purse, thou? Ah, sot the poor World is peftred with such Water-flies, dimisves of Nature. far. Out Gall!

i ser. Finch Egg! -- . My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite

rom my great purpose in to morrow's Battel :
Sere is a Letter from Queen Hecuba,
si token from her Daughter, my fair Love,
- ruth taxing me, and gaging me to keep

2n Oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,
rail Greek, fail Fame, Honour, or go, or stay,
ivy major Vow lyes here; this I'll obey :
wme, come, Therfites, help to trim my Tent,

, Alus Night in Banqueting muft all be spent. way, Patroclus,

[Exit. lier. With too much Blood, and too little Brain, these two may run mad : But if with too much Brain, and coo Lule Blood, they do, I'll be a Curer of Mad-men. Here's - umemnon, an honest Fellow enough, and one that loves Quals, but he has not so much Brain as Ear-wax; and the sind Transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, e primitive Statue, and oblique Memorial of Cuckolds.

As Hector's Leisure, and your Bounties shall
Concur together, severally intreat him.
Beat loud the Taborins, let the Trumpets blow;
That this great Soldier may his welcome know. [Exem

Manent. Troilus and Ulysses.
Troi. My Lord Ulyffes, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the Field doth Calchas keep?

Ulys. At Menelaus Tent, most Princely Troilus;
There Diomede doth feast with him to Night;
Who neither looks on Heav'n, nor on Earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cresid.

Troi. Shall I, sweet Lord, be bound to thee so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's Tent,
To bring me thither?

Olyf. You shall command me, Sir:
As gently 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 shew their Scars,
A mock is due: Will you walk on, my

Lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd ; Me is, and doth.
But still, sweet Love is Food for Fortune's tooth. [Exewki

A CT V. SCENE I.
SCENE before Achilles Tent in the Grecian

Сатр.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil. T'LL heat his Blood with Greekis Wine to Nighty

Patroclus, let us Feast him to the height.
Patr. Here comes Therfites.

Enter Therfites.
Achil. How now, thou core of Envy?
Thou crusty batch of Nature, what's the News ?
Ther, Why, chou Pi&ure of what thou seem'st

, and Idol
of Idiot-worthippers, here's a Letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, Fragment?

Ther.

Thir. Why, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.
Patr. Who keeps the Tent now?
Ther. The Surgeon's Box, or the Patient's Wound.
Patr. Well said, Adversity; and what need these Tricks?

Ther. Prithee be silent, Boy, I profit not by thy talk, thou art thought to be Achilles's Male-Varlet.

Patr. Male Varlet, you Rogue? What's that?

Ther. Why, his masculine Whore. Now the rotten Difeases of the South, Guts-griping, Ruptures, Catarrhs, loads o'Gravel i'th' Backs, Lethargies, cold Palsies, and the like, take and take again such preposterous Discoveries.

Patr. Why, thou damnable Box of Envy, thou, what mean'st thou to Curse thus?

Ther. Do I Curse thee?

Patr. Why no, you ruinous Butt, you whoreson indiftinguishable Cur.

Ther. No? Why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial Skein of Ney'd Silk; thou green Sarcenet flap for a sore Eye; thou Tafel of a Prodigal's Purse, thou? Ah, how the poor World is peftred with such Water-flies, diminutives of Nature.

Patr. Out Gall!
Ther. Finch Egg!

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to morrow's Battel :
Here is a Letter from Queen Hecuba,
A Token from her Daughter, my fair Love,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An Oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,
Fall Greek, fail Fame, Honour, or go, or stay,
My major Vow lyes here; this I'll obey :
Come, come, Therfites, help to trim my Tent,
This Night in Banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus,

[Exit. Ther. With too much Blood, and too little Brain, these two may run mad : But if with too much Brain, and coo little Blood, they do, I'll be a Curer of Mad-men. Here's Agamemnon, an honest Fellow enough, and one that loves Quails, but he has not so much Brain as Ear-wax; and the good Transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, che primitive Statue, and oblique Memorial of Cuckolds,

a thrifty shooting-horn in a Chain, hanging at his Brother's
Leg; to what Form, but that he is, thould Wit larded with
Malice, and Malice forced with Wit turo him to? to an Ass
were nothing, he is both Ass and Ox; to an Ox were nothing,
he is both Öx and Ass; to be a Dog, a Mule, a Cat, a
Fitchew, a Toad, a Lizard, an Owl, a Pittock, or a Her-
ring without a Roe, I would not care: But to be Mene-
laus, I would conspire against Destiny. Ask me not what
I would be, if I were Therfires; for I care not to be the
Lowle of a Lazar, fo I were not Menelaus. Hoy-day, Spi-
rits and Fires.
Enter Heđor, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, and

Diomede, with Lights.
Aga, We go wrong. we go wrong.
Ajax. No, yonder 'tis, there where we see the light.
Hect. I trouble you.
Ajax. No, not á whit.

Enter Achilles.
vlys. Here comes himself to guide you.
Achil. Welcome brave HeEtor, welcome Princes all.

Aga. So, now fair Prince of Troy, I bid good Night,
Ajax commands the Guard to tend on you.

Hett. Thanks, and good Night to the Greek's General,
Men. Good Night, my Lord.
Heit. Good Night, sweet Lord Menelaus.

Ther. Sweet Draught--lwcet quoth a---[weet Sink, sweet Sewer.

Achil. Good Night, and welcome, both at once, to those that go or tarry.

Aga. Good Night.

Achil. Old Nestor carries, and you tog, Diomede, Keep Hector Company, an hour or two.

Dio. I cannot, Lord, I have important Business, The tide whereof is now; Good Night, great Hector.

Hect. Give me your Hand.

Ulys. Follow his Torch, he goes to Calchas's Tent, I'll keep you Company.

[To Troilus. Troi, Sweet Sir, you honour me. Het. And so good Night. Achil. Come, come, enter my Tent.

[Exeant.

Ther.

Ther. That fame Diomede's a falle-hearted Rogue, a most unjust Knave; I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a Serpent when he hisses : He will spend his Mouth and Promise, like Brabler the Hound ; but when he

performs, Astronomers forerel it, that it is prodigious, there will come fome change: The Sun borrows of the Moon, when Diomede keeps his Word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than not to dog him: They say, he keeps a Trojan Drab, and uses the Traitor Calchas his Tent. I'll afterNothing but Lechery; all' incontinent Varlers. [Exerint.

SCENE II. Calchas Tent.

Enter Diomede. Dio. What are you up here, ho ? speak. Cal. Who calls? Dio. Diomede; Calchas, I think; where's your Daughter Cal. She comes to you.

Enter Troilus and Ulysses, after rbem Thersites. Ulys. Stand where the Torch may not discover us.

Enter Creflid. Troi, Cresid, come forth to him ! Dio. How now, my charge? Cre. Now my sweet Guardian; hark, a word with yoų.

[Whispers. Troi. Yea, fo familiar ? Ulys. She will fing to any Man at first sight.

Ther. And any Man may find her, if he can take her life: she's noted. Dio. Will

you remember Cre. Remember? yes. Dio. Nay, but do then ; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Troi. What should the remember
Ulys. Lift.
Cre.. Sweet, Hony Greek, tempt me no more to Folly.
Ther. Roguery-
Dia. Nay, then.
Cre. I'll tell you what.
Dio. Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you ate i forfworn

Crea