Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Achil. There's for you Patroclus.
Ther. Ther.
Ther. I wil see you hang'd like Clotpoles ere I come
Ther. any more to your Tents; I will keepe where there is wit
Ther. stirring, and leaue the faction of fooles.
Ther. Exit.
Pat. Pat.
Pat. A good riddance.
Achil. Achil.
Achil. Marry this Sir is proclaim'd through al our host,
Achil. That Hector by the fift houre of the Sunne,
Achil. Will with a Trumpet,'twixt our Tents and Troy
Achil. To morrow morning call some Knight to Armes,
Achil. That hath a stomacke, and such a one that dare
Achil. Maintaine I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.
Aiax. Aiax.
Aiax. Farewell? who shall answer him?
Achil. I know not,'tis put to Lottry: otherwise
Achil. He knew his man.