_Ther_. How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury?
Shall the elephant Aiax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him.
O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him,
whilst he rail’d at me! ’Sfoot, I’ll learn to conjure and raise devils,
but I’ll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there’s
Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two
undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou
great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of
gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if
ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they
have! which short-arm’d ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce,
it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without
drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the
vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache! for
that, methinks, is the curse depending on those that war for a placket.
I have said my prayers; and devil Envy say ‘Amen.’ What ho! my Lord
Achilles!