Chapter: ACT V. SCENE 1.
The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES

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.
  PATROCLUS. Here comes Thersites.

                   Enter THERSITES

  ACHILLES. How now, thou core of envy!
    Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
  THERSITES. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of
    idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
  ACHILLES. From whence, fragment?
  THERSITES. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
  PATROCLUS. Who keeps the tent now?
  THERSITES. The surgeon's box or the patient's wound.
  PATROCLUS. Well said, Adversity! and what needs these tricks?
  THERSITES. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou
    art said to be Achilles' male varlet.
  PATROCLUS. Male varlet, you rogue! What's that?
  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!
  PATROCLUS. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou
    to curse thus?
  THERSITES. Do I curse thee?
  PATROCLUS. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson
    indistinguishable cur, no.
  THERSITES. No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial
    skein of sleid silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye,
    thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is
    pest'red with such water-flies-diminutives of nature!
  PATROCLUS. Out, gall!
  THERSITES. Finch egg!
  ACHILLES. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
    From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
    Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
    A token from her daughter, my fair love,
    Both taxing me and gaging me to keep
    An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it.
    Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay;
    My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.
    Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
    This night in banqueting must all be spent.
    Away, Patroclus!              Exit with PATROCLUS
  THERSITES. With too much blood and too little brain these two may
    run mad; but, if with too much brain and to little blood they do,
    I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow
    enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain
    as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his
    brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of
    cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his
    brother's leg-to what form but that he is, should wit larded with
    malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were
    nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox, were nothing: he is both
    ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a
    lizard, an owl, a put-tock, or a herring without a roe, I would
    not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny.
    Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care
    not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day!
    sprites and fires!

         Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES,
            NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights

  AGAMEMNON. We go wrong, we go wrong.
  AJAX. No, yonder 'tis;
    There, where we see the lights.
  HECTOR. I trouble you.
  AJAX. No, not a whit.

                    Re-enter ACHILLES

  ULYSSES. Here comes himself to guide you.
  ACHILLES. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all.
  AGAMEMNON. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night;
    Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
  HECTOR. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general.
  MENELAUS. Good night, my lord.
  HECTOR. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.
  THERSITES. Sweet draught! 'Sweet' quoth 'a?
    Sweet sink, sweet sewer!
  ACHILLES. Good night and welcome, both at once, to those
    That go or tarry.
  AGAMEMNON. Good night.
                     Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS
  ACHILLES. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed,
    Keep Hector company an hour or two.
  DIOMEDES. I cannot, lord; I have important business,
    The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector.
  HECTOR. Give me your hand.
  ULYSSES. [Aside to TROILUS] Follow his torch; he goes to
    Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.
  TROILUS. Sweet sir, you honour me.
  HECTOR. And so, good night.
                 Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following
  ACHILLES. Come, come, enter my tent.
                            Exeunt all but THERSITES
  THERSITES. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust
    knave; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a
    serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise, like
    Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell
    it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun
    borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather
    leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a
    Troyan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent. I'll after.
    Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets!
Exit

 Achilles chills with Patroclus and talks trash about how he's going to make mincemeat out of Hector tomorrow. Then Thersites shows up at the Greek camp with a letter from Troy. Thersites and Achilles bag on each other, which, of course. Did you expect anything else? Patroclus tries to chime in but Thersites tells him to pipe down and calls him a man-whore. To get his point across, Thersites lists a bunch of nasty diseases and symptoms and says he hopes Patroclus experiences them all. Want a sampling? "Rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers," "incurable bone-ache," and so on. Meanwhile, Achilles reads his letter. It's from Queen Hecuba and includes a little love token from Polyxena . Achilles is all "Rats! I was really looking forward to killing Hector tomorrow but I have to go back to Troy because I promised both women I wouldn't fight." Achilles and Patroclus order Thersites to get their tent ready for a party that night. Tent party, y'all! Alone on stage, Thersites delivers one of his nasty soliloquies about Achilles, Patroclus, and Agamemnon, who's got "ear-wax" for a brain. Finally, a bunch of guys show up at Achilles' tent and go inside to par-tay. When Diomedes leaves, Ulysses whispers that Troilus should follow him to Calchas' tent. Thersites follows too and says he doesn't trust Diomedes. He then repeats a rumor that Diomedes is going to hook up with a "Trojan drab" in Calchas' tent.

