THERSITES
Hum!
PATROCLUS
And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.
THERSITES
Agamemnon!
PATROCLUS
Ay, my lord.
THERSITES
Ha!
PATROCLUS
What say you to't?
THERSITES
God b' wi' you, with all my heart.
PATROCLUS
Your answer, sir.
THERSITES
If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will
go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me
ere he has me.
PATROCLUS
Your answer, sir.
THERSITES
Fare you well, with all my heart.
ACHILLES
Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
THERSITES
No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in
him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know
not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo
get his sinews to make catlings on.
ACHILLES
Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.