Scene III.The Grecian Camp.
Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES,
DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX,
MENELAUS, and CALCHAS.
Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind
That through the sight I bear in things to come,
I have abandoned Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition
Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
And here, to do you service, have become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:
I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many register'd in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agam. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan?
Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd An-
Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have youoften have you thanks there-
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor
I know is such a wrest in their affairs
That their negociations all must slack,
Wanting his manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
In change of him: let him be sent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter; and her pre-
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain.
Agam. Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have
What he requests of us. Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange:
Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready.
Dio. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a bur-
Which I am proud to bear.
[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS.
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their
Ulyss. Achilles stands in the entrance of his
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:
I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him:
If so, I have derision med'cinable
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good: pride hath no other glass
To show itself but pride, for supple knees
Feed arrogance and are the poor man's fees.
Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put
A form of strangeness as we pass along:
So do each lord, and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.
Achil. What! comes the general to speak with
You know my mind; I'll fight no more 'gainst
Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught
Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the
Nest. Nothing, my lord.
Agam. The better.
[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR.
Achil. Good day, good day.
Men. How do you? how do you? [Exit.
Achil. What! does the cuckold scorn me?
Ajax. How now, Patroclus?
Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.
Achil. Good morrow.
Ajax. Ay, and good next day too. [Exit.
Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they
Patr. They pass by strangely: they were us'd
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?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with for-
Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer,
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
That are without him, as places, riches, and fa-
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
Which when they fall, as being slippery stand-
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses:
I'll interrupt his reading
How now, Ulysses!
Ulyss. Now, great Thetis' son!
Achil. What are you reading?
Ulyss. A strange fellow hem
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.
Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses!
The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself
That most pure spirit of sensebehold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form;
For speculation turns not to itself
Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there
Where it may see itself. This is. not strange
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar, but at the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing
Though in and of him there be much consisting
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they're extended; who, like an arch,
The voice again, or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his beat. I was much rapt in
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.
Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse,
That has he knows not what. Nature, what
things there are,
Most abject in regard, and dear in use!
What things again most dear in the esteem
And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-mor-
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renown'd. O heavens! what some men
While some men leave to do.
How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords! why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrinking.
Achil. I do believe it; for they pass'd by me
As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me
Good word or look: what! are my deeds forgot?
Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are de-
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant
For honour travels in a strait so narrow
Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by
And leave you hindmost;
Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'errun and trampled on: then what they do in
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the
And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O! let not virtue
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all with one consent praise new-born
Though they are made and moulded of things
And give to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
Than what not stirs. The cry went once oh
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods them-
And drave great Mars to faction.
Achil. Of this my privacy
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.
Achil. Ha! known!
Ulyss. Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold,
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps,
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mysterywith whom relation
Durst never meddlein the soul of state,
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath or pen can give expressure to.
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much
To throw down Hector than Polyxena;
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.'
Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should
Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this:
They think my little stomach to the war
And your great love to me restrains you thus.
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton
Shall from your. neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
Patr. Ay; and perhaps receive much honour
Achil. I see my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
Patr. O! then, beware;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give them-
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patro-
I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him
T' invite the Trojan lords after the combat
To see us here unarmed. I have a woman's
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd!
Ther. A wonder!
Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking
Achil. How so?
Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with
Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an
heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying
Achil. How can that be?
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a
peacock, a stride and a stand; ruminates like a
hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to
set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a
politic regard, as who should say 'There were wit
in this head, an't would out;' and so there is, but
it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which
will not show without knocking. The man's
undone for ever; for if Hector break not his
neck i' the combat, he'll break't himself in vain-
glory. He knows not me: I said, 'Good morrow,
Ajax;' and he replies, 'Thanks, Agamemnon.'
What think you of this man that takes me for
the general? He's grown a very land-fish, lan-
guageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a
man may wear it on both sides, like a leather
Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him,
Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he
professes not answering; speaking is for beggars;
he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on
his presence: let Patroclus make demands to me,
you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him, I humbly
desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valor-
ous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to
procure safe-conduct for his person of the mag-
nanimous and most illustrious, six-or-seven-
times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian
army, Agamemnon, et cætera. Do this.
Patr. Jove bless great Ajax!
Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,
Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite
Hector to his tent,
Patr. And to procure safe-conduct from
Patr. Ay, my lord.
Patr. What say you to't?
Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. 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.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.
Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
Ther. 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
Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse, for
that's the more capable creature.
Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain
And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were
clear again, that I might water an ass at it!
I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a
valiant ignorance. [Exit.