THERSITES
'Tis no matter! I shall speak as much 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 clotpoles, 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
Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host:
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy
To-morrow 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 lottery; otherwise
He knew his man.
AJAX
O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it.
Exeunt