s._ Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

_Patro._ Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?

_Thers._ Because a fool's my whetstone.

_Patro._ Meaning me?

_Thers._ Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee, be silent, boy, I
profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south,
gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back,
lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee
again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a
prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such
water-flies, such diminutives of nature!

_Achil._ My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented
From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life.
Here is a letter from my love Polyxena,
Both taxing and engaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it
To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay,
There's more religion in my love than fame.
[_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.

_Thers._ With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are
running mad before the dog-days. There's Agamemnon, too, an honest
fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much
brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there's a fellow!
the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the
primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother's
tail,--to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring
without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
against destiny.--Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!

HECTOR, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, DIOMEDE, ULYSSES, TROILUS, _going with
Torches over the Stage._

_Agam._ We go wrong, we go wrong.

_Ajax._ No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the light.

_Hect._ I trouble you.

_Ajax._ Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.

_Enter_ ACHILLES.

_Achil._ Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.

_Agam._ So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands
the guard to wait on you.

_Men._ Good night, my lord.

_Hect._ Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet
jakes!

_Achil._ Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede,
Keep Hector company an hour or two.

_Diom._ I cannot, sir; I have important business.

_Achil._ Enter, my lords.

_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas's tent.