Cal.
Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind^{5 note}
,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove^{6 note}

Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,

To doubtful fortunes; séquest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,

Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
And here, to do you service, and 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 would'st thou of us, Trojan? make demand.

Cal.
You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor^{8 note},
Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you, (often have you thanks therefore,)
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^{9 note}

That their negotiations 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 presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain^{1 note}

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 burden
Which I am proud to bear. [Exeunt Diomedes and Calchas. Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their Tent.

Ulyss.
Achilles stands i'the entrance of his tent:—
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, why turn'd on him^{2 note}
:
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 proud man's fees.

Agam.
We'll execute your purpose, and put on
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 me?
You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.

Agam.
What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

Nest.
Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

Achil.
No.

Nest.
Nothing, my lord.

Agam.
The better. [Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor.

Achil.
Good day, good day.

Men.
How do you? how do you? [Exit Menelaus.

Achil.
What, does the cuckold scorn me?

Ajax.
How now, Patroclus?

Achil.
Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax.
Ha?

Achil.
Good morrow^{3 note}.

Ajax.
Ay, and good next day too. [Exit Ajax.

Achil.
What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

Patr.
They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend,
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 fallen out with fortune,
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^{4 note} for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, and favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
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 out
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 here
Writes me, That man—how dearly ever parted^{5 note}

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* ^note 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^{6 note}


(That most pure spirit^{7 note}
of sense,) behold 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^{8 note}

,
Till it hath travell'd, and is married there
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.

Ulyss.
I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but at the author's drift:

Who, in his circumstance^{9 note}, 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 are extended; which, like^{1 note}

While some men leave to do!
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall^{5 note}

Achil.
I do believe it: for they pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars; neither gave to me,
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot?

Ulyss.
Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back^{8 note}

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles^{2 note},
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit^{3 note}

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and cómplete 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 on thee^{5 note},
And still it might; and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions^{6 note}

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^{7 note}.

Achil.
Ha! known^{8 note}?

Ulyss.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold^{9 note}

Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles^{2 note}

Patr.
To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you:
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 Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air^{5 note}.

Achil.
Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr.
Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour by him.

Achil.
I see, my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd^{6 note}

Patr.
O, then beware;
Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves:
Omission to do what is necessary^{7 note}
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 Patroclus:
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing,
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! Enter Thersites.

Ther.

A wonder!

Achil.

What?

Ther.

Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.

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 nothing.

Achil.

How can that be?

Ther.

Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock; a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politick regard^{8 note}, as who should say—there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking^{9 note}


. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it 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 is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil.

Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

Ther.

Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms^{1 note}
. I will put on his

presence; let Patroclus make demands* ^note 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 valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.

Patr.

Jove bless great Ajax.

Ther.

Humph!

Patr.

I come from the worthy Achilles,—

Ther.

Ha!

Patr.

Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent!—

Ther.

Humph!

Patr.

And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.

Ther.

Agamemnon?

Patr.

Ay, my lord.

Ther.

Ha!

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 musick 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 catlings on^{2 note}.

Achil.

Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Ther.

Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature^{3 note}

Achil.
My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
And I myself see not the bottom of it^{4 note}

. [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.