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Vhy, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.
Why, his masculine Whore. Now the rotten Dil-
i'th' Backs, Lethargies, cold Palfies, and the like,
hou to Curse thus?
". 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 :
2n Oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,
, 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
Manent. Troilus and Ulysses.
Ulys. At Menelaus Tent, most Princely Troilus;
Troi. Shall I, sweet Lord, be bound to thee so much,
Olyf. You shall command me, Sir:
Tro. O Sir, to such as boasting shew their Scars,
A CT V. SCENE I.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Patroclus, let us Feast him to the height.
, and Idol
Thir. Why, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.
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!
Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
[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
Diomede, with Lights.
Aga. So, now fair Prince of Troy, I bid good Night,
Hett. Thanks, and good Night to the Greek's General,
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.
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