Ulys. I shall wait on you.
As freely tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,
Who mourn her absence?
Troil. O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,
Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;
That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord. [Exeunt Ulysses and Troilus.
Achil [To Patro.] I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Enter Thersites.
Patro. Here comes Thersites.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy,
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Thers. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot worshippers, there's a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Thers. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Patro. Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?