Cal.
Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompence. ^{9 note}

That, ^{1 note}

Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possest conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
And here, to do you service, am 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 registred in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.

Aga.
What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.

Cal.
You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
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 deny'd: But this Antenor,

I know, is such a wrest in their affairs,
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,
^{2 note}

Aga.
Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have
What he requests of us.—Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this enterchange:
Withal, bring word—if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge; Ajax is ready.

Diom.
This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden
Which I am proud to bear. [Exit Diomed, 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:
If so, I have ^{3 note}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 shew itself, but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.

Aga.
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.

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

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

Achil.
No.

Nest.
Nothing, my lord.

Aga.
The better.

Achil.
Good day, good day.

Men.
How do you? how do you?

Achil.
What, does the cuckold scorn me?

Ajax.
How now, Patroclus?

Achil.
Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax.
Ha?

Achil.
Good morrow.

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

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,
Shew not their mealy wings, but to the summer;
And not a man, for being simply man,

Hath any honour; but's honour'd for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, 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,
Doth 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 in me not worth that 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—^{4 note}

Achil.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here in the face,
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
^{5 note}
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself^{6 note}

,

(That most pure spirit 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,
'Till it hath travell'd, and is marry'd 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, ^{7 note}in his circumstance, expressly proves—
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Though in and of him there is 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 an arch, reverberates
The voice again; or like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this;
And apprehended here immediately
^{8 note}The unknown Ajax.
Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are,
Most abjects in regard, and dear in use!
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renown'd.9Q1025 O heavens, what some men do,
While some men leave to do!

^{9 note}How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is ^{1 note}feasting 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, nor look: What are my deeds forgot?

Ulyss.
^{2 note}Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
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 way;
For honour travels in a streight so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path:
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 entred tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost^{3 note}

Or like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement ^{4 note}
to the abject rear,
^{5 note}

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 on thee,9Q1026
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,
^{8 note}

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^{9 note}.

Achil.
Ha! known?

Ulyss.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state,

^{1 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 ^{4 note}
to air.

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.

Patr.
O, then beware;
Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves:
^{5 note}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 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 arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip ^{1 note}with a politic regard, 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 shew without knocking. 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's 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 embassador to him, Thersites.

Ther.

Who, I? why, he'll answer no body; 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 valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honour'd captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.

Patr.

Jove bless great Ajax!

Ther.

Hum!

Patr.

I come from the worthy Achilles.

Ther.

Ha!

Patr.

Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent.

Ther.

Hum!

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 knock'd out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fidler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on^{1 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.

Achil.
My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
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.

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