and rogues together. But your battle has discretion; it picks out all
the forward fools, and sowses them together into immortality. [_Shouts
and alarms within_] Plague upon these drums and trumpets! these sharp
sauces of the war, to get fools an appetite to fighting! What do I
among them? I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass, and die a martyr
in a wrong religion. [_Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by
Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon_
THERSITES _who is flying too._

_Troj._ Turn, slave, and fight.

_Thers._ [_turning._] What art thou?

_Troj._ A bastard son of Priam's.

_Thers._ I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am bastard in body,
bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. A
bear will not fasten upon a bear; why should one bastard offend
another! Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and have the fear
of our mothers before our eyes.

_Troj._ The devil take thee, coward. [_Exit Troj._

_Thers._ Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable! These
gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never
feel it. [_Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each
way, and meets the noise._
A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now would I were that blockhead
Ajax for a minute. Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long
pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have
nobody left to laugh at them. Now destruction! now destruction!

_Enter_ HECTOR _and_ TROILUS _driving in the Greeks._

_Hect._ to _Thers._ Speak what part thou fightest on!

_Thers._ I fight not at all; I am for neither side.

_Hect._ Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?
Art thou of blood and honour?

_Thers._ No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy
rogue.

_Hect._ I do believe thee; live.

_Thers._ God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but the devil break
thy neck for frighting me. [_Aside._

_Troil._ (_returning._) What prisoner have you there?

_Hect._ A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.

_Troil._ Dispatch him, and away. [_Going to kill him._

_Thers._ Hold, hold!--what, is it no more but dispatch a man and away!
I am in no such haste: I will not die for Greece; I hate Greece, and
by my good will would never have been born there; I was mistaken into
th