Уильям Шекспир - The History of Troilus and Cressida

AJAX. Thersites!
THERSITES. Agamemnon-how if he had boils full, an over,
generally?
AJAX. Thersites!
THERSITES. And those boils did run-say so. Did not the general
run
then? Were not that a botchy core?
AJAX. Dog!
THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him;
I see none now.
AJAX. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then.
[Strikes
him]
THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel
beef-witted
lord!
AJAX. Speak, then, thou whinid'st leaven, speak. I will beat
thee
into handsomeness.
THERSITES. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but
I
think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a
prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red
murrain
o' thy jade's tricks!
AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.
THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me
thus?
AJAX. The proclamation!
THERSITES. Thou art proclaim'd, a fool, I think.
AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.
THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had
the
scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in
Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest
as
slow as another.
AJAX. I say, the proclamation.
THERSITES. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles;
and
thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at
Proserpina's beauty-ay, that thou bark'st at him.
AJAX. Mistress Thersites!
THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him.
AJAX. Cobloaf!
THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a
sailor breaks a biscuit.
AJAX. You whoreson cur! [Strikes
him]
THERSITES. Do, do.
AJAX. Thou stool for a witch!
THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no
more
brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee.