Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks; Deliver Helen, and all damage else— As honour, loss of time, travel, expence, Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued? As well wherein 'tis precious of itself Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is con- To make the service greater than the god; sum'd In hot digestion of this cormorant war,— As far as toucheth my particular, yet, And the will dotes, that is attributive Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election There is no lady of more softer bowels, Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes, Tro, Fye, fye, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, Of common ounces? will you with counters sum We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, We do not throw in unrespective sieve, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. Cas. Within. Cry, Trojans, cry! Hect. It is Cassandra. Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled elders, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in our sister work Tro. Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Par. Else might the world convince of levity Pri. Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights: You have the honey still, but these the gall; So to be valiant is no praise at all. Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; But I would have the soil of her fair rape Wip'd off, in honourable keeping her. What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, Now to deliver her possession up | Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well, The world's large spaces cannot parallel. On terms of base compulsion? Can it be, Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both said .well; And on the cause and question now in hand The reasons, you allege, do more conduce Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our Were it not glory that we more affected labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! 'would, it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduteus; if ye take not that little little less-thanlittle wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the boneache! for that, methinks, is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil, envy, say Amen. What, ho! my lord Achilles ! Enter PATROCLUS. Patr. Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites, corne in and rail. Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldest not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; Thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she, that lays thee out, says-thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? Ther. Ay; the heavens hear me Enter ACHILLES. Achil. Who's there? Patr. Thersites, my lord. Achil. Where, where?-Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come; what's Agamemnon? 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. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool. Patr. You rascal! Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done. Achil. He is a privileged man.Thersites. -Proceed, Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. Achil. Derive this; come. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive. Patr. Why am I a fool? Ther. Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me, thou art.-Look you, who comes here? Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and AJAX. Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody:Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit. 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 to bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject! and war, and lechery, confound all ! [Exit. Agam. Where is Achilles? Patr. Within his tent; but ill dispos'd, my lord. Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are He shent our messengers; and we lay by Patr. I shall say so to him. 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. Re-enter PATROCLUS. Nest. No Achillés with him. Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. Patr. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry, If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Agam. Hear you, Patroclus: We are too well acquainted with these answers: Much attribute he hath; and much the reason If you do say we think him over-proud, Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on; [Exit. Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him.-Ulysses, enter. Exit Ulysses. Ajar. What is he more than another? Agam. No more than what he thinks he is. Ajar. 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 say -he 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? Re-enter ULYSSES. 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, Untent his person, and share the air with us? Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, He makes important: Possess'd he is with great ness; And speaks not to himself, but with a pride Agam. Let Ajax go to him. Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent: 'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led, At your request, a little from himself. Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! That were to enlard his fat-already pride; Aside. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! CAside. Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash him Aside. Chides blackness. [Aside. CAside. Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside. Ajar. He should not bear it so, Aside. He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it? 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. Die. 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; Nest. Wherefore should you so? Ulyss, Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajar. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! I would, he were a Trojan! Nest. What a vice Were it in Ajax now- Dio. Or strange, or self-affected? Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure; Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck: Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Ajax. Shall I call you father? Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart Keeps thicket. Please it our great general And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. ACT III. SCENE I.—Troy. A room in PRIAM's palace. not Enter PANDARUS and a Servant. Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles:-What music is this? Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do in parts. Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs praise him. Serv. The lord be praised! Pan. You know me, do you not? Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better. Pan. Know you the musicians? Pan. Who play they to? 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[Music within. blood of beauty, love's invisible soul, Sere. You are in a state of grace. |