Thers. Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable! These gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never feel it.
[Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each way, and meets the noise.
A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now would I were that blockhead Ajax for a minute. Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have nobody left to laugh at them. Now destruction! now destruction!
Enter Hector and Troilus driving in the Greeks.
Hect. to Thers. Speak what part thou fightest on!
Thers. I fight not at all; I am for neither side.
Hect. Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?
Art thou of blood and honour?
Thers. No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy rogue.
Hect. I do believe thee; live.
Thers. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but the devil break thy neck for frighting me. [Aside.
Troil. (returning.) What prisoner have you there?
Hect. A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.