Achil. So I do: what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. 'Well!' why, so I do.[1291] 60
Ther. But yet you look not well upon him; for, whosoever[1292]
you take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil. I know that, fool.
Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 65
Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his
evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more[1293]
than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a[1294]
penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a
sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in 70
his belly and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say[1295]
of him.
Achil. What?
Ther. I say, this Ajax— [Ajax offers to strike him.[1296]