Page 2887 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2
P. 2887
THERSITES
The surgeon’s box, or the patient’s wound.
PATROCLUS
Well said, adversity! And what need these tricks?
THERSITES
Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk. Thou art thought to be Achilles’
male varlet. [15]
PATROCLUS
Male varlet, you rogue? What’s that?
THERSITES
Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, guts-
griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’gravel i’th’back, lethargies, cold palsies,
and the like, take and take again such preposterous [20] discoveries!
PATROCLUS
Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what mean’st thou to curse thus?
THERSITES
Do I curse thee?
PATROCLUS
Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson [25] indistinguishable cur.
THERSITES
No! Why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-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 waterflies, [30]
diminutives of nature!
PATROCLUS
Out, gall!
THERSITES
