Sly. I have an excellent thought. If some fifty of the Grecians that were crammed in the horse’-belly had eaten garlic, do you not think the Trojans might have smelt out their knavery?
Condell. Very likely.
Sly. By God, I would they[342] had, for I love Hector horribly.
Sinklo. O, but, coz, coz!
“Great[343] Alexander, when he came to the tomb of Achilles,
Spake with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessèd and happy!” 131
Sly. Alexander was an ass to speak so well of a filthy cullion.[344]
Lowin. Good sir, will you leave the stage? I’ll help you to a private room.[345]
Sly. Come, coz, let’s take some tobacco.[346] —Have you never a prologue?
Lowin. Not any, sir.
Sly. Let me see, I will make one extempore.