Speeches (Lines) for Patroclus in "Troilus and Cressida"

Thersites. No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it.

Patroclus. Good words, Thersites.

Thersites. 'Tis no matter! I shall speak as much as thou
afterwards.

Patroclus. No more words, Thersites; peace!

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.

Patroclus. A good riddance.

Thersites. How now, Thersites! what lost in the labyrinth of
thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He
beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction!
would it were otherwise; that I could beat him,
whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to
conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of
my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a
rare enginer! If Troy be not taken till these two
undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of
themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus,
forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods and,
Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy
caduceus, if ye take not that little, little less
than little wit from them that they have! which
short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly
from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and
cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the
whole camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that,
methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war
for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil Envy
say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles!

Patroclus. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail.

Thersites. If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou
wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but
it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common
curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in
great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and
discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy
direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee
out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and
sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars.
Amen. Where's Achilles?

Patroclus. What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?

Achilles. Who's there?

Patroclus. Thersites, my lord.

Thersites. Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus,
what's Achilles?

Patroclus. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee,
what's thyself?

Thersites. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus,
what art thou?

Patroclus. Thou mayst tell that knowest.

Thersites. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands
Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus'
knower, and Patroclus is a fool.

Patroclus. You rascal!

Thersites. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles;
Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon;
Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and
Patroclus is a fool positive.

Patroclus. Why am I a fool?

Agamemnon. Where is Achilles?

Patroclus. Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord.

Agamemnon. Let it be known to him that we are here.
He shent our messengers; and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Let him be told so; lest perchance he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.

Patroclus. I shall say so to him.

Ulysses. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy:
his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.

Patroclus. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness and this noble state
To call upon him; he hopes it is no other
But for your health and your digestion sake,
And after-dinner's breath.

Agamemnon. Hear you, Patroclus:
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss,
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,
If you do say we think him over-proud
And under-honest, in self-assumption greater
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier
than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report:
'Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant.' Tell him so.

Patroclus. I shall; and bring his answer presently.

Achilles. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

Patroclus. They pass by strangely: they were used to bend
To send their smiles before them to Achilles;
To come as humbly as they used to creep
To holy altars.

Ulysses. Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold,
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps,
Keeps place with thought and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery--with whom relation
Durst never meddle--in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath or pen can give expressure to:
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much
To throw down Hector than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump,
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.'
Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

Patroclus. To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think my little stomach to the war
And your great love to me restrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

Achilles. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patroclus. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.

Achilles. I see my reputation is at stake
My fame is shrewdly gored.

Patroclus. O, then, beware;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.

Achilles. To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the
valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector
to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure
safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous
and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honoured
captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon,
et cetera. Do this.

Patroclus. Jove bless great Ajax!

Thersites. Hum!

Patroclus. I come from the worthy Achilles,--

Thersites. Ha!

Patroclus. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,--

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.

Menelaus. I had good argument for kissing once.

Patroclus. But that's no argument for kissing now;
For this popp'd Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus you and your argument.

Ulysses. O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.

Patroclus. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine:
Patroclus kisses you.

Menelaus. O, this is trim!

Patroclus. Paris and I kiss evermore for him.

Cressida. In kissing, do you render or receive?

Patroclus. Both take and give.

Achilles. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

Patroclus. Here comes Thersites.

Thersites. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

Patroclus. Who keeps the tent now?

Thersites. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.

Patroclus. Well said, adversity! and what need these tricks?

Thersites. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk:
thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.

Patroclus. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?

Thersites. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases
of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs,
loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold
palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing
lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas,
limekilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the
rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take
again such preposterous discoveries!

Patroclus. Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest
thou to curse thus?

Thersites. Do I curse thee?

Patroclus. Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson
indistinguishable cur, no.

Thersites. No! why art thou then exasperate, thou idle
immaterial skein of sleave-silk, 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 waterflies, diminutives of nature!

Patroclus. Out, gall!