_Achil._ Nay, good Ajax. 75 _Ther._ Has not so much wit-- _Achil._ Nay, I must hold you. _Ther._ As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. _Achil._ Peace, fool! 80 _Ther._ 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-- _Achil._ Will you set your wit to a fool's? _Ther._ No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it.[1297] 85 _Patr._ Good words, Thersites.[1298] _Achil._ What's the quarrel? _Ajax._ I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the[1299] proclamation, and he rails upon me. _Ther._ I serve thee not. 90 _Ajax._ Well, go to, go to. _Ther._ I serve here voluntary. _Achil._ Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. 95 _Ther._ E'en so; a great deal of your wit too lies in[1300] your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a' were[1301] as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. _Achil._ What, with me too, Thersites? 100 _Ther._ There's Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke[1302] you like draught-oxen, and make you plough up the wars.[1303] _Achil._ What? what? _Ther._ Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to![1304] 105 _Ajax._ I shall cut out your tongue. _Ther._ 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou[1305] afterwards. _Patr._ No more words, Thersites; peace![1306] _Ther._ I will hold my peace when Achilles' brooch bids[1307] 110 me, shall I? _Achil._ There's for you, Patroclus. _Ther._ I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come[1308] any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. [_Exit._ 115 _Patr._ A good riddance. _Achil._ Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host: That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,[1309] Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy To-morrow morning call some knight to arms 120 That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain--I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.[1310] _Ajax._ Farewell. Who shall answer him?[1311] _Achil._ I know not; 'tis put to lottery; otherwise He knew his man. 125 _Ajax._ O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it.[1312] [Exeunt. SCENE II. _Troy. A room in Priam's palace._[1313]