The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1107 page)

As to prenominate in nice conjecture

Where thou wilt hit me dead?

It would be unworthy of the great gods, arrogant man,

to answer a question like that. Get back on your feet.

You think it's going to be so easy to kill me

that you can nominate beforehand

where you will put the deadly blow?

ACHILLES.

I tell thee yea.

I'm telling you, yes.

HECTOR.

Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,

I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well;

For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;

But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,

I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er.

You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag.

His insolence draws folly from my lips;

But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,

Or may I never-

If you were an Oracle telling me this,

I wouldn't believe you. From now on be on your guard;

for I won't kill you there, nor there, nor there;

but, I swear by the forge that made Mars' helmet,

I'll kill you everywhere, yes, over and over.

You wisest Greeks, excuse my boasting.

His insolence makes me say foolish things.

But I'll try to match my words with deeds,

or may I never–

AJAX.

Do not chafe thee, cousin;

And you, Achilles, let these threats alone

Till accident or purpose bring you to't.

You may have every day enough of Hector,

If you have stomach. The general state, I fear,

Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.

Don’t to be angry, cousin.

And you, Achilles, stop making these threats,

until, accidentally or on purpose, you two meet in combat.

You can fight with Hector every day,

if you have the stomach for it. The Greek commanders, I'm afraid,

can't persuade you to be so confrontational with him.

HECTOR.

I pray you let us see you in the field;

We have had pelting wars since you refus'd

The Grecians' cause.

I ask you,let us see you on the battlefield.

The battles have been insignificant since you refused

to fight for the Greeks.

ACHILLES.

Dost thou entreat me, Hector?

To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;

To-night all friends.

Are you inviting me, Hector?

Tomorrow I shall meet you, fierce as death;

tonight we'll all be friends.

HECTOR.

Thy hand upon that match.

Shake hands on that.

AGAMEMNON.

First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent;

There in the full convive we; afterwards,

As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall

Concur together, severally entreat him.

Beat loud the tambourines, let the trumpets blow,

That this great soldier may his welcome know.

First, all you lords of Greece, go to my tent;

then we will have a great feast together. Afterwards,

depending on what Hector wants and you can offer him,

you can entertain him yourselves.

Play the tambourines loudly, let the trumpets blow,

to show this great soldier our welcome.

Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES

TROILUS.

My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,

In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?

My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beg you,

whereabouts in the camp does Calchas stay?

ULYSSES.

At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus.

There Diomed doth feast with him to-night,

Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth,

But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view

On the fair Cressid.

At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus.

Diomedes is feasting with him there tonight,

who doesn't look at the earth or the skies,

but spends all his looks lovingly

on the beautiful Cressida.

TROILUS.

Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,

After we part from Agamemnon's tent,

To bring me thither?

Would you be so kind, sweet lord,

after we leave Agamemnon's tent,

to take me there?

ULYSSES.

You shall command me, sir.

As gentle tell me of what honour was

This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there

That wails her absence?

I'm at your disposal, sir.

Be so kind as to tell me what was this Cressida's

reputation in Troy? Did she have no lover there,

who is missing her?

TROILUS.

O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars

A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?

She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth;

But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.

Oh, sir, those who boast and show their scars

should be mocked. Will you walk on, my lord?

She was loved and loved in return; she still is, and does;

but still, sweet love is still the plaything of fate.

Exeunt

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS

ACHILLES.

I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,

Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.

Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

I'll warm his blood with Greek wine tonight

and tomorrow I'll cool it down with my sword.

Patroclus, let's give him a great feast.

PATROCLUS.

Here comes Thersites.

Here comes Thersites.

Enter THERSITES

ACHILLES.

How now, thou core of envy!

Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

Hello, you dregs of envy!

You scabby depraved object, what's the news?

THERSITES.

Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of

idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee.

Why, you who are all show and no substance,

the idol of foolish worshippers, here's a letter for you.

ACHILLES.

From whence, fragment?

Where from, youdreg?

THERSITES.

Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

Why you great bowlful of idiocy, from Troy.

PATROCLUS.

Who keeps the tent now?

Who's keeping to his tent now?

THERSITES.

The surgeon's box or the patient's wound.

The surgeon's box or the patient's wound.

PATROCLUS.

Well said, Adversity! and what needs these tricks?

Well said, perverse creature! Now what's the point in these word games?

THERSITES.

Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou

art said to be Achilles' male varlet.

Please, be silent, boy; your talk is useless to me; you

are said to be Achilles' manservant.

PATROCLUS.

Male varlet, you rogue! What's that?

Manservant, you rogue! What's that mean?

THERSITES.

Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of

the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel

in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten

livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas,

limekilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-

simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous

discoveries!

Why, his masculine whore. Now, may the rotten diseases of

the South,
colic, colds, shingles,

sleeping sickness, shakes, sore eyes, rotting

livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of ulcers, sciatica,

warts, rheumatism, and all the scars that boils leave

overcome such filthy inversions!

PATROCLUS.

Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou

to curse thus?

Why you dammed swine, what do you mean

by this curse?

THERSITES.

Do I curse thee?

Am I cursing you?

PATROCLUS.

Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson

indistinguishable cur, no.

Why, no, you revolting ass; you son of a bitch mongrel

dog, no.

THERSITES.

No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial

skein of sled silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye,

thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is

pestered with such water-flies-diminutives of nature!

No! Then why are upset, you idle useless piece of

embroidery silk, you flimsy green eyepatch for a sore eye,

you frilly decoration on a spendthrift's purse? Ah, how the poor world is

bothered by such mosquitoes–the tiny things of nature!

PATROCLUS.

Out, gall!

Get out, boil!

THERSITES.

Finch egg!

Speck!