Achil.

Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody:— Come in with me, Thersites.

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^{1 note}

Agam.

Where is Achilles?

Patr.
Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.

Agam.
Let it be known to him that we are here.

He shent our messengers^{3 note}

Patr.
I shall say so to him. [Exit.

Ulyss.
We saw him at the opening of his tent;
He is not sick.

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.

Nest.

What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?

Ulyss.

Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Nest.

Who? Thersites?

Ulyss.

He.

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^{4 note}, a fool could disunite.

Ulyss.

The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.

Nest.

No Achilles with him.

Ulyss.

The elephant hath joints^{5 note}

Patr.
Achilles bids me say—he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness, and this noble state^{6 note}

But, for your health and your digestion sake,
An after-dinner's breath^{7 note}.

Agam.
Hear you, Patroclus:—
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath; and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him: yet all his virtues,—
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,—
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him: And you shall not sin,
If you do say—we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater,
Than in the note of judgment^{8 note}; and worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness^{9 note}

The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,
That, if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report—
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give^{4 note}


Before a sleeping giant:—Tell him so.

Patr.
I shall; and bring his answer presently. [Exit.

Agam.
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter^{5 note}. [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 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^{6 note}


.

Ajax.

I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads^{7 note}.

Nest.
And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange? [Aside. 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 geatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages^{8 note}



,

And batters down himself* ^note: What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud^{9 note}

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!
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles: Shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam^{2 note}

And ruminate himself,—shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,
By going to Achilles:
That were to enlard his fat-already pride^{3 note};
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion^{4 note}

Nest.
O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. [Aside.

Dio.
And how his silence drinks up this applause! [Aside.

Ajax.
If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash him
Over the face^{5 note}

Agam.
O, no, you shall not go.

Ajax.
An be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride^{6 note}

Ulyss.
Not for the worth^{7 note} that hangs upon our quarrel.

Ajax.
A paltry, insolent fellow,—

Nest.
How he describes
Himself? [Aside.

Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?

Ulyss.
The raven
Chides blackness. [Aside.

Ajax.
I will let his humours* ^note blood^{8 note}.

Agam.
He will be the physician^{9 note}, that should be the patient. [Aside.

Ajax.
An all men
Were o'my mind,—

Ulyss.
Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside.

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^{1 note}

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^{2 note}

Ulyss.
Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax.
A whoreson dog, that shall palter^{3 note}


thus with us!
I would, he were a Trojan!

Nest.
What a vice
Were it in Ajax now—

Ulyss.
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 composure;
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck^{4 note}:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition^{5 note}

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn^{7 note}

Ajax.
Shall I call you father?

Nest.
Ay, my good son^{8 note}

Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulyss.
There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy^{9 note}

Agam.
Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail* ^note swift, though greater hulks† ^note draw deep^{1 note}
. [Exeunt.

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