part of his body
Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there?
That I may give the imagined wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!

_Hect._ Wert thou an oracle to tell me this,
I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well,
I'll kill thee every where.
Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast;
His insolence draws folly from my lips;
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Else may I never--

_Ajax._ Do not chafe thee, cousin;--
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone;
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.

_Hect._ I pray you, let us see you in the field;
We have had pelting wars, since you refused
The Grecian cause.

_Achil._ Do'st thou entreat me, Hector?
To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death;
To-night, all peace.

_Hect._ Thy hand upon that match.

_Agam._ First, all you Grecian princes, go with me,
And entertain great Hector; afterwards,
As his own leisure shall concur with yours,
You may invite him to your several tents.
[_Exeunt_ AGAM. HECT. MENEL. NEST. DIOM.
_together._

_Troil._ My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?

_Ulys._ At Menelaus' tent:
There Diomede does feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks on heaven or on earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On Cressida alone.

_Troil._ Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither?

_Ulys._ I shall wait on you.
As freely tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,
Who mourn her absence?

_Troil._ O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,
Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;
That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord.
[_Exeunt_ ULYSSES _and_ TROILUS.

_Achil._ [_To_ PATRO.]
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

_Enter_ THERSITES.

_Patro._ Here comes Thersites.

_Achil._ How now, thou core of envy,
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

_Thers._ Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot
worshippers, there's a letter for thee.

_Achil._ From whence, fragment?

_Ther