THERSITES

Hum!

PATROCLUS

And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.

THERSITES

Agamemnon!

PATROCLUS

Ay, my lord.

THERSITES

Ha!

PATROCLUS

What say you to't?

THERSITES

God b' wi' you, with all my heart.

PATROCLUS

Your answer, sir.

THERSITES

If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will
go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me
ere he has me.

PATROCLUS

Your answer, sir.

THERSITES

Fare you well, with all my heart.

ACHILLES

Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

THERSITES

No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in
him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know
not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo
get his sinews to make catlings on.

ACHILLES

Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.