THERSITES.
Make that demand of the Creator. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax and Calchas.
ACHILLES.
Come, Patroclus, I’ll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites.
[Exit.]
THERSITES.
Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery. All the argument is a whore and a cuckold—a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all!
[Exit.]
AGAMEMNON.
Where is Achilles?
PATROCLUS.
Within his tent; but ill-dispos’d, my lord.
AGAMEMNON.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
He shent our messengers; and we lay by
Our appertainings, 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.