Ther. Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to![1304] 105
Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou[1305]
afterwards.
Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace![1306]
Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brooch bids[1307] 110
me, shall I?
Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.
Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come[1308]
any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring,
and leave the faction of fools. [Exit. 115
Patr. A good riddance.
Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our
host:
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,[1309]
Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms 120
That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare
Maintain—I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.[1310]
Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him?[1311]