PATROCLUS

Good words Thersites. No more words Thersites. A good riddance. I shall so say to him. I shall, and bring his answer presently. Here comes Thersites. Who keeps the Tent now? Why thou damnable box of envy thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? Out gall. Who's there? Thersites. Good Thersites come in and rail. What art thou devout? wast thou in a prayer? Thersites, my Lord. Thy Lord Thersites : then tell me I pray thee, what's thy self? Thou mayest tell that knowest. Why am I a fool? Within his Tent, but ill disposed my Lord. They pass by strangely: they were used to bend To send their smiles before them to Achilles : To come as humbly as they used to creep to holy Altars. To this effect Achilles have I moved you; A woman impudent and mannish grown, Is not more loathed, then and effeminate man, In time of Actium: I stand condemned for this; They think my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse your self; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fouled, And Like a Due drop from the Lyons mane, Be shook to airy air. I, and perhaps receive much honour by him. Oh then beware: Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves: Omission to do what is necessary, Seals a commission to a blank of danger, And danger Like and ague subtly taints Even then when we fit idly in the sun. I come from the worthy Achilles. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his Tent. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon. I my Lord. What say you too't. Your anfwer sir. Your answer sir. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. Both take and give. Well said adversity, and what needs these tricks? Why no, you ruinous But, you whoreson indi stinguishable Cur. You rascal. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry: If any thing more then your sport and pleasure, Did move your greatness, and this noble State, To call upon him; he Hope's it is no other, But for your health, and your digestion sake; And after Dinners breath. Jove bless great Ajax. But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus pop't Paris in his hardiment. The first was Menelaus kiss, this mine: Patroclus kisses you. Male Varlot you Rogue? What's that?