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and shame to me,

       Now to deliver her possession up

       On terms of base compulsion! Can it be

       That so degenerate a strain as this

       Should once set footing in your generous bosoms?

       There’s not the meanest spirit on our party

       Without a heart to dare or sword to draw

       When Helen is defended; nor none so noble

       Whose life were ill bestow’d or death unfam’d

       Where Helen is the subject. Then, I say,

       Well may we fight for her whom we know well

       The world’s large spaces cannot parallel.

      HECTOR.

       Paris and Troilus, you have both said well;

       And on the cause and question now in hand

       Have gloz’d, but superficially; not much

       Unlike young men, whom Aristode thought

       Unfit to hear moral philosophy.

       The reasons you allege do more conduce

       To the hot passion of distemp’red blood

       Than to make up a free determination

       ‘Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge

       Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

       Of any true decision. Nature craves

       All dues be rend’red to their owners. Now,

       What nearer debt in all humanity

       Than wife is to the husband? If this law

       Of nature be corrupted through affection;

       And that great minds, of partial indulgence

       To their benumbed wills, resist the same;

       There is a law in each well-order’d nation

       To curb those raging appetites that are

       Most disobedient and refractory.

       If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta’s king—

       As it is known she is-these moral laws

       Of nature and of nations speak aloud

       To have her back return’d. Thus to persist

       In doing wrong extenuates not wrong,

       But makes it much more heavy. Hector’s opinion

       Is this, in way of truth. Yet, ne’er the less,

       My spritely brethren, I propend to you

       In resolution to keep Helen still;

       For ‘tis a cause that hath no mean dependence

       Upon our joint and several dignities.

      TROILUS.

       Why, there you touch’d the life of our design.

       Were it not glory that we more affected

       Than the performance of our heaving spleens,

       I would not wish a drop of Troyan blood

       Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,

       She is a theme of honour and renown,

       A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,

       Whose present courage may beat down our foes,

       And fame in time to come canonize us;

       For I presume brave Hector would not lose

       So rich advantage of a promis’d glory

       As smiles upon the forehead of this action

       For the wide world’s revenue.

      HECTOR.

       I am yours,

       You valiant offspring of great Priamus.

       I have a roisting challenge sent amongst

       The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks

       Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.

       I was advertis’d their great general slept,

       Whilst emulation in the army crept.

       This, I presume, will wake him.

       [Exeunt.]

       German

      SCENE III

       Table of Contents

       The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES

      [Enter THERSITES, solus.]

      THERSITES.

       How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him, whilst he rail’d at me! ‘Sfoot, I’ll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I’ll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there’s Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm’d ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse depending on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil Envy say ‘Amen.’ What ho! my Lord Achilles!

      [Enter PATROCLUS.]

      PATROCLUS.

       Who’s there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail.

      THERSITES.

       If I could ‘a rememb’red a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipp’d out of my contemplation; but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! Heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death. Then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I’ll be sworn and sworn upon’t she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where’s Achilles?

      PATROCLUS.

       What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer?

      THERSITES.

       Ay, the heavens hear me!

      PATROCLUS.

       Amen.

       [Enter ACHILLES.]

      ACHILLES.

       Who’s there?

      PATROCLUS.

       Thersites, my lord.

      ACHILLES.

       Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what’s Agamemnon?

      THERSITES.

       Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what’s

       Achilles?

      PATROCLUS.

       Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what’s

       Thersites?

      THERSITES.

       Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

      PATROCLUS.

       Thou must tell that knowest.

      ACHILLES.

      

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