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Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ;-Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?
Patr. Thy lord, Thersites; Then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?
Patr. Thou mayest tell, that knowest.
Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamem-
Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done.
Achil. He is a privileged man.-Proceed, Thersites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.
Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery all the argument is, a cuckold, and a whore; A good quarrel, to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject! and war, and lechery, confound all!
Agam. Where is Achilles?
Patr. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.
Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think
Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: But why, why? let him show us a cause.-A word, my lord."
Takes Agamemnon aside. Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. Nest. Who? Thersites ?
Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.
Ulyss. No; you see, he is his argument, that has his argument; Achilles.
Nest. All the better; their fraction is more our wish, than their faction: But it was a strong composure, a fool could disunite.
Ulyss. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.
Nest. No Achilles with him.
Much attribute he hath; and much the reason
And underwrite in an observing kind
Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him.-Ulysses, enter. [Exit Ulysses.
Ajax. What is he more than another? Agam. No more than what he thinks he is. Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am?
Agam. No question.
Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and sayhe is?
Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.
Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is.
Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange? [Aside.
Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. Agam. What's his excuse? Ulyss. He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
As amply titled as Achilles is,
By going to Achilles :
That were to enlard his fat-already pride;
Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.
[A side. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! Aside. Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist, I'll pash Over the face. Chim
Agam. O, no, you shall not go. Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride: Let me go to him,
Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow, [quarrel.
How he describes! Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship [Aside, are my titles :-What music is this?
Ajax. He should not bear it so, He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it? Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside. Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. [Aside. Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises: Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Aside. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. [To Agamemnon. Nest. O noble general, do not do so. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm, Here is a man-But 'tis before his face;
I will be silent. Nest.
Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulyse. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with I would, he were a Trojan ! Nest. What a vice
Were it in Ajax now→→→
If he were proud?
Dio. Or covetous of praise? Ulyss
Ay, or surly borne ! Dio. Or strange, or self-affected? Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck: Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition:
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to tight,
And give him half and, for thy vigour,
To sinewy Ajax. I'll not praise thy wisdom,
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:-
Shall I call you father?
Be rui'd by him, lord Ajax.
Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in
Pan. Know you the musicians !
Serv. Wholly, sir.
Pan. Who play they to?
Serv. To the hearers, sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?
Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
Serv. Who shall I command, sir?
Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whose request do these men play?
Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir: Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul,
Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida?
Serv. No, sir, Helen; Could you not find out that by her attributes.
Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. Serv. Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase,
Enter Paris and Helen, attended.
Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow!
Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen.Fair prince, here is good broken music.
Par. You have broke it, cousin and, by my life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance :-Nell, he is full of harmony.
Pan. Truly, lady, no.
Helen. O, sir,
Pan. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. Par. Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits. Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen :My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?
Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly.
Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. -But (marry) thus, my lord, My dear lord, and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus
Helen. My lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to:-commends himself most affectionately to you.
Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody; If you do, our melancholy upon your head! Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i'faith.
Helen. Aud to make a sweet lady sad, is a sour offence.
Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his ex
Helen. My lord Pandarus,
Pan. What says my sweet queen,-my very very sweet queen?
Par. What exploit's in hand? where sups he tonight?
Helen. Nay, but my lord,
Pan. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups.
Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide; come, your disposer is sick.
Par. Well, I'll make excuse.
Pan. Ay, good, my lord. Why should you sayCressida no, your poor-disposer's sick. Par. I spy.
Pan. You spy! what do you spy ?-Come, give me an instrument.--Now, sweet queen. Helen. Why, this is kindly done.
Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you
Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord Pan-have, sweet queen. darus.
Serv. I hope, I shall know your honour better.
Serv. You are in the state of grace. [Music within.
Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.
Pan. He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain.
Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make | For the capacity of my ruder powers:
Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a song now.
Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.
Pan. Ay, you may, you may.
Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo! us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
Pan. Love ay, that it shall, i'faith.
Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.
Love, love, nothing but love, still more I
Shoots buck and doe:
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry-Oh! oh! they die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
So dying love lives still:
Oh! oh! awhile, but ha! ha! ha!
Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose. Par. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.
Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds?-Why, they are vipers: Is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field to-day?
Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-night, but my Nel would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?
Helen. He hangs the lip at something;-you know all, lord Pandarus.
Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they sped to-day.-You'll remember your brother's excuse.
Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen. Commend me to your niece. Pan. I will, sweet queen.
[Exit. A Retreat sounded.
Par. They are come from field: let us to Priam's hall.
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo
Helen. Twill make us proud to be his servant,
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty, [Paris:
Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt.
Enter Pandarus and a Servant, meeting. Pan. How now? where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?
Serv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.
Pan. O, here he comes.-How now, how now? Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Servant.
Pan. Have you seen my cousin?
Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door, Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields, Where I may wallow in the lily beds Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, And fly with me to Cressid!
Pan. Walk here i'the orchard, I'll bring her straight.
Tro. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense; What will it be,
I fear it much; and I do fear besides,
Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a sprite I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain :she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en spar[Exit.
Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom : My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan. Come, come, what need you blush? shame's a baby. Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her, that you have sworn to me.-What, are you gone again? you must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you i'the fills.Why do you not speak to her? Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your pictare. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend day-light! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now? a kiss in fee-farm? build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i'the river: go to, go to.
Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady.
Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll bereave you of the deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire. -In witness whereof the parties interchangeably
Cres. Will you walk in, my lord?
Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus ? Cres. Wished, my lord?-The gods grant!-0, my lord !
Tro. What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. Tro. Fears make devils cherubims; they never see
Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: To fear the worst, oft cures the worst.
Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither.
Tre. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough, than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady,-that the will is infinite, and the execution contined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Cres. They say, all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions, and the act of hares, are they not monsters ?
Tro. Are there such such are not we: Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare, till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present: we will not name desert, before his birth; and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith Troilus shall be such to Cressid, as what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus. Cres. Will you walk in, my lord?
Pan. What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?
Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
Pan. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me: Be true to my lord: if he linch, chide me for it.
Tro. You know now your hostages; your uncle's word, and my firm faith.
Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our
kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, | they are constant, being won they are burs, I can tell you they'll stick where they are thrown.
Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day,
Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; 'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss:
I am asham'd-O heavens! what have I done?-
Pan. Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,
Cres. Pray you, content you.
Cres. Sir, mine own company.
Cres. Let me go and try :
You cannot shun
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the witness.-Here I hold your hand; here, my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name, call them all-Pandars; let all inconstant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen. Tro. Amen.
Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away. And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Grecian Camp.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor,
Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
I have a kind of self resides with you;
Might be affronted with the match and weight
I am as true as truth's simplicity,
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
O virtuous fight,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,-
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Achil. Good morrow. Ajax.
Good morrow, Ajax. Ha? Ay, and good next day too. (Exit. Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? [bend, Patr. They pass by strangely they were us'd to To send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep To holy altars. Achil.
What, am I poor of late?
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
Now, great Thetis' son?
Achil. What are you reading? Ulyss. A strange fellow here Writes me, That man-how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without, or in,Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver.
It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
The voice again; or, like a gate of steel
Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
As done: Perseverance, dear my lord,
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rauk,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,—
The present eye praises the present object:
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
I have strong reasons. Ulyss.
But 'gainst your privacy
The reasons are more potent and heroical: "Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.
Ulyss. Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state,
Patr. To this effect, Achilles have I mov'd you:
O, then beware;
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
Those scraps are good deeds past: which are devour'd Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
Achil. Go, call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus: