Agam. Bear off Patroclus’ body to Achilles;
Revenge will arm him now, and bring us aid. 
The alarm sounds near, and shouts are driven upon us,
As of a crowd confused in their retreat.

Ulys. Open your ranks, and make these madmen way, Then close again to charge upon their backs, And quite consume the relics of the war. [Exeunt all but THERSITES.

Thers. What shoals of fools one battle sweeps away!  How it purges families of younger brothers, highways of robbers, and cities of cuckold-makers!  There is nothing like a pitched battle for these brisk addle-heads!  Your physician is a pretty fellow, but his fees make him tedious, he rides not fast enough; the fools grow upon him, and their horse bodies are poison proof.  Your pestilence is a quicker remedy, but it has not the grace to make distinction; it huddles up honest men and rogues together.  But your battle has discretion; it picks out all the forward fools, and sowses them together into immortality. [Shouts and alarms within] Plague upon these drums and trumpets! these sharp sauces of the war, to get fools an appetite to fighting!  What do I among them?  I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass, and die a martyr in a wrong religion. [Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by
                          Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon
                          THERSITES who is flying too.

Troj. Turn, slave, and fight.

Thers. [turning.] What art thou?

Troj. A bastard son of Priam’s.

Thers. I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am bastard in body, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate.  A bear will not fasten upon a bear; why should one bastard offend another!  Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and have the fear of our mothers before our eyes.

Troj. The devil take thee, coward. [Exit Troj.

Thers. Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable!  These gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never feel it. [Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each
                     way, and meets the noise.
A pox clatter you!  I am compassed in.  Now would I were that blockhead Ajax for a minute.  Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have nobody left to laugh at them.  Now destruction! now destruction!

Enter HECTOR and TROILUS driving in the Greeks.

Hect. to Thers. Speak what part thou fightest on!

Thers. I fight not at all; I am for neither side.

Hect. Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?  Art thou of blood and honour?

Thers. No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy rogue.