The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  THERSITES Ay, do, do! Thou sodden-witted lord, thou hast in thy skull no more brain than I have in mine elbows. An asnico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou.

  AJAX You dog.

  THERSITES You scurvy lord.

  AJAX You cur.

  ⌈He strikes Thersites⌉

  THERSITES Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness! Do, camel, do, do!

  Enter Achilles and Patroclus

  ACHILLES

  Why, how now, Ajax? Wherefore do ye thus?

  How now, Thersites? What’s the matter, man?

  THERSITES You see him there? Do you?

  ACHILLES Ay. What’s the matter?

  THERSITES Nay, look upon him.

  ACHILLES So I do. What’s the matter?

  THERSITES Nay, but regard him well.

  ACHILLES ‘Well’? Why, I do so.

  THERSITES But yet you look not well upon him. For whosomever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

  ACHILLES I know that, fool.

  THERSITES Ay, but ‘that fool’ knows not himself.

  AJAX Therefore I beat thee.

  THERSITES Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters.

  His evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones. I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles—Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head—I’ll tell you what I say of him.

  ACHILLES What?

  THERSITES I say, this Ajax—

  ⌈Ajax threatens to strike him⌉

  ACHILLES Nay, good Ajax.

  THERSITES Has not so much wit—

  ⌈Ajax threatens to strike him⌉

  ACHILLES (to Ajax) Nay, I must hold you.

  THERSITES As will stop the eye of Helen’s needle, for whom he comes to fight.

  ACHILLES Peace, fool.

  THERSITES I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not. He, there, that he, look you there.

  AJAX O thou damned cur I shall—

  ACHILLES (to Ajax) Will you set your wit to a fool’s?

  THERSITES No, I warrant you, for a fool’s will shame it.

  PATROCLUS Good words, Thersites.

  ACHILLES (to Ajax) What’s the quarrel?

  AJAX I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

  THERSITES I serve thee not.

  AJAX Well, go to, go to.

  THERSITES I serve here voluntary.

  ACHILLES Your last service was sufferance. ‘Twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.

  THERSITES E’en so. A great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch an a knock out either of your brains. A were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.

  ACHILLES What, with me too, Thersites?

  THERSITES There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught oxen and make you plough up the war.

  ACHILLES What? What?

  THERSITES Yes, good sooth. To Achilles! To, Ajax, to—

  AJAX I shall cut out your tongue.

  THERSITES ’Tis no matter. I shall speak as much wit as thou afterwards.

  PATROCLUS No more words, Thersites, peace.

  THERSITES I will hold my peace when Achilles’ brach bids me, shall I?

  ACHILLES There’s for you, Patroclus.

  THERSITES I will see you hanged like clodpolls ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

  Exit

  PATROCLUS A good riddance.

  ACHILLES (to Ajax)

  Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host:

  That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,

  Will with a trumpet ‘twixt our tents and Troy

  Tomorrow morning call some knight to arms

  That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare

  Maintain—I know not what. ’Tis trash. Farewell.

  AJAX Farewell. Who shall answer him?

  ACHILLES

  I know not. ‘Tis put to lott’ry. Otherwise,

  He knew his man. ⌈Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus⌉

  AJAX O, meaning you? I will go learn more of it.

  ⌈Exit⌉

  2.2 ⌈Sennet.⌉ Enter King Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus

  PRIAM

  After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,

  Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:

  ‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else—

  As honour, loss of time, travail, expense,

  Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed

  In hot digestion of this cormorant war—

  Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you to’t?

  HECTOR

  Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,

  As far as toucheth my particular, yet, dread Priam,

  There is no lady of more softer bowels,

  More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,

  More ready to cry out, ‘Who knows what follows?’

  Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,

  Surety secure; but modest doubt is called

  The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches

  To th’ bottom of the worst. Let Helen go.

  Since the first sword was drawn about this question,

  Every tithe-soul, ’mongst many thousand dimes,

  Hath been as dear as Helen—I mean, of ours.

  If we have lost so many tenths of ours

  To guard a thing not ours—nor worth to us,

  Had it our name, the value of one ten—

  What merit’s in that reason which denies

  The yielding of her up?

  TROILUS

  Fie, fie, my brother!

  Weigh you the worth and honour of a king

  So great as our dread father in a scale

  Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum

  The past-proportion of his infinite,

  And buckle in a waist most fathomless

  With spans and inches so diminutive

  As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!

  HELENUS

  No marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons,

  You are so empty of them. Should not our father

  Bear the great sway of his affairs with reason

  Because your speech hath none that tells him so?

  TROILUS

  You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest.

  You fur your gloves with ‘reason’. Here are your

  reasons:

  You know an enemy intends you harm,

  You know a sword employed is perilous,

  And reason flies the object of all harm.

  Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds

  A Grecian and his sword, if he do set

  The very wings of reason to his heels

  And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

  Or like a star disorbed? Nay, if we talk of reason,

  Let’s shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour

  Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their

  thoughts

  With this crammed reason. Reason and respect

  Make livers pale and lustihood deject.

  HECTOR

  Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost

  The holding.

  TROILUS What’s aught but as ’tis valued?

  HECTOR

  But value dwells not in particular will.

  It holds his estimate and dignity

  As well wherein ‘tis precious of itself

  As in the prizer. ’Tis
mad idolatry

  To make the service greater than the god;

  And the will dotes that is inclinable

  To what infectiously itself affects

  Without some image of th’affected merit.

  TROILUS

  I take today a wife, and my election

  Is led on in the conduct of my will;

  My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,

  Two traded pilots ‘twixt the dangerous shores

  Of will and judgement. How may I avoid—

  Although my will distaste what it elected—

  The wife I chose? There can be no evasion

  To blench from this and to stand firm by honour.

  We turn not back the silks upon the merchant

  When we have spoiled them; nor the remainder viands

  We do not throw in unrespective sewer

  Because we now are full. It was thought meet

  Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks.

  Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;

  The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce

  And did him service. He touched the ports desired,

  And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive

  He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness

  Wrinkles Apollo’s and makes stale the morning.

  Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt.

  Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl

  Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships

  And turned crowned kings to merchants.

  If you’ll avouch ’twas wisdom Paris went—

  As you must needs, for you all cried, ‘Go, go!’;

  If you’ll confess he brought home noble prize—

  As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands

  And cried, ‘Inestimable!’—why do you now

  The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,

  And do a deed that never fortune did:

  Beggar the estimation which you prized

  Richer than sea and land? O theft most base,

  That we have stol’n what we do fear to keep!

  But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol’n,

  That in their country did them that disgrace

  We fear to warrant in our native place.

  CASSANDRA ⌈within⌉

  Cry, Trojans, cry!

  PRIAM What noise? What shriek is this?

  TROILUS

  ’Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.

  CASSANDRA ⌈within⌉ Cry, Trojans!

  HECTOR It is Cassandra.

  ⌈Enter Cassandra raving, with her hair about her ears⌉

  CASSANDRA

  Cry, Trojans, cry! Lend me ten thousand eyes

  And I will fill them with prophetic tears.

  HECTOR Peace, sister, peace.

  CASSANDRA

  Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled old,

  Soft infancy that nothing canst but cry,

  Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes

  A moiety of that mass of moan to come.

  Cry, Trojans, cry! Practise your eyes with tears.

  Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand.

  Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all.

  Cry, Trojans, cry! Ah Helen, and ah woe!

  Cry, cry ‘Troy burns!’—or else let Helen go. Exit

  HECTOR

  Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains

  Of divination in our sister work

  Some touches of remorse? Or is your blood

  So madly hot that no discourse of reason,

  Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,

  Can qualify the same?

  TROILUS

  Why, brother Hector,

  We may not think the justness of each act

  Such and no other than the event doth form it,

  Nor once deject the courage of our minds

  Because Cassandra’s mad. Her brainsick raptures

  Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel

  Which hath our several honours all engaged

  To make it gracious. For my private part,

  I am no more touched than all Priam’s sons.

  And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us

  Such things as might offend the weakest spleen

  To fight for and maintain.

  PARIS

  Else might the world convince of levity

  As well my undertakings as your counsels.

  But I attest the gods, your full consent

  Gave wings to my propension and cut off

  All fears attending on so dire a project.

  For what, alas, can these my single arms?

  What propugnation is in one man’s valour

  To stand the push and enmity of those

  This quarrel would excite? Yet I protest,

  Were I alone to pass the difficulties

  And had as ample power as I have will,

  Paris should ne’er retract what he hath done

  Nor faint in the pursuit.

  PRIAM

  Paris, you speak

  Like one besotted on your sweet delights.

  You have the honey still, but these the gall.

  So to be valiant is no praise at all.

  PARIS

  Sir, I propose not merely to myself

  The pleasures such a beauty brings with it,

  But I would have the soil of her fair rape

  Wiped off in honourable keeping her.

  What treason were it to the ransacked queen,

  Disgrace to your great worths, 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 bestowed or death unfamed

  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,

  But on the cause and question now in hand

  Have glossed but superficially—not much

  Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought

  Unfit to hear moral philosophy.

  The reasons you allege do more conduce

  To the hot passion of distempered 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 rendered 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-ordered 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 returned. 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’ertheless,

  My sprightly 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 touched the life of our design.

  W
ere it not glory that we more affected

  Than the performance of our heaving spleens,

  I would not wish a drop of Trojan 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 promised 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 shriek amazement to their drowsy spirits.

  I was advertised their great general slept

  Whilst emulation in the army crept;

  This I presume will wake him.

  ⌈Flourish.⌉ Exeunt

  2.3 Enter Thersites

  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 railed 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-armed 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 dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say ‘Amen’.—What ho! My lord Achilles!

  Enter Patroclus ⌈at the door to the tent⌉

  PATROCLUS Who’s there? Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail. ⌈Exit⌉

  THERSITES If I could ha’ remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped 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 corpse, I’ll be sworn and sworn upon’t she never shrouded any but lazars.