Pan.

Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen.

Dear lord ^note, you are full of fair words.

Pan.

You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Par.

You have broke ^note it, cousin: and, by my life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he ^note is full of harmony.

Pan.

Truly, lady, no.

Helen.

O, sir,—

Pan.

Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.

Par.

Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits ^note.

Pan.

I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen.

Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear ^note you sing, certainly.

Pan.

Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord, and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus—

Helen.

My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,—

Pan.

Go to, sweet queen, go to:—commends himself most affectionately to you ^note—

Helen.

You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head ^note!

Pan.

Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith. ^note

Helen.

And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. ^note

Pan.

Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you ^note will make his ^note excuse. ^note

Helen.

My Lord Pandarus,—

Pan.

What says my sweet queen, my ^note very very sweet queen?

Par. ^note

What exploit's in hand? where ^note sups he to-night?

Helen.

Nay, but, my lord,—

Pan.

What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out with you. ^note You must not know where he sups. ^{note note}

Par. ^note

I'll lay my life ^note, with my disposer ^{note note} Cressida. ^note

Pan.

No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come, your disposer ^note is sick.

Par.

Well, I'll make ^note excuse.

Pan.

Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, your poor disposer's ^{note note} sick.

Par.

I spy. ^note

Pan.

You spy! what do you spy? Come, give me an instrument. Now ^note, sweet queen.

Helen.

Why, this is kindly done. ^note

Pan.

My niece is horribly ^note in love with a thing you have, sweet queen.

Helen.

She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.

Pan.

He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain. ^note

Helen.

Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.

Pan.

Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a song now.

Helen.

Ay, ay, prithee now. By ^note my troth, sweet lord ^note, thou hast a fine forehead.

Pan.

Ay, you may, you may. ^note

Helen.

Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!

Pan.

Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith.

Par.

Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.

Pan.

In good troth, it begins so ^note.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more ^note! ^note
  For, O, love's bow
  Shoots buck ^note and doe ^note:
  The shaft confounds, ^note
  Not that it wounds ^note,
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry Oh! oh! ^note they die:
  Yet that which seems the wound ^note to kill ^note,
Doth turn ^note oh! oh! ^note to ha! ha! he!
  So dying love lives still:
Oh! oh! ^note a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! ^note groans out for ha! ha! ha!

Heigh-ho! ^note

Helen.

In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose.

Par.

He eats nothing but doves, love ^note, and that breeds hot blood and hot blood begets hot thoughts and hot thoughts begets hot deeds and hot deeds is ^note love.

Pan.

Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? ^note Why, they are vipers: is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's afield ^note to-day? ^note

Par.

Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day ^note, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?

Helen.

He hangs the lip at something: you know all, Lord Pandarus.

Pan.

Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Par.

To a hair.

Pan.

Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen.

Commend me to your niece.

Pan.

I will, sweet queen.

Par.
They're ^note come from field ^note: let us to Priam's hall,
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these ^note your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
Shall more obey than to the edge of steel
Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more
Than all the island kings,—disarm great Hector.

Helen.
'Twill make us proud to be his ^note servant, Paris;
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
Yea, overshines ourself.

Par. ^note
Sweet, above thought I love thee. ^note [Exeunt.

^note Scene II. [Footnote: An orchard ^note to Pandarus' house. Enter Pandarus and Troilus' Boy, meeting. ^note

Pan.

How now ^note! where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?

Boy.

No, sir; he stays for ^note you to conduct him thither.

Pan.
O, here he comes. Enter Troilus.
How now, how now!

Tro.
Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Boy. ^note

Pan.
Have you seen my cousin?

Tro.
No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Like ^note a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those ^note fields
Where I may wallow in the lily-beds
Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus ^note,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid!

Pan.
Walk here i' the orchard, I'll ^note bring her straight. [Exit. ^note

Tro.
I am ^note giddy; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense ^note: what will it be,

When that the watery palates taste ^note indeed
Love's thrice repured ^note nectar? death, I fear me,
Swounding ^note destruction, or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent ^note, tuned too ^note sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder ^note powers:
I fear it much, and I do fear besides
That I shall lose distinction in my joys,
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying. Re-enter ^note Pandarus.

Pan.

She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a sprite ^note: I'll fetch ^note her. It is the prettiest villain: she fetches her breath as short ^note as a new-ta'en sparrow.

Tro.
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares ^note encountering
The eye of majesty. Re-enter ^note Pandarus with Cressida. ^note

Pan.

Come, come, what need you blush? ^note shame's a baby. Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. What, are you gone again? you

must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an ^note you draw backward, we'll put you i' the fills ^note. Why do you not speak to her? Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas the ^note day, how loath you are to offend daylight! an 'twere dark, you'ld close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now! a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as ^note the tercel, for all the ducks i' the river: go to, go to.

Tro.

You have bereft me of all words, lady.

Pan.

Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll bereave you o' the ^note deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's ‘In witness whereof the parties interchangeably’— ^noteCome in, come in: I'll go get a fire.

Cres.

Will you walk in, my lord?

Tro.

O Cressida ^note, how often have I wished me thus!

Cres.

Wished, my lord?—The gods grant— ^noteO my lord!

Tro.

What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady ^note in the fountain of our love?

Cres.

More dregs than water, if my fears ^note have eyes.

Tro.

Fears make devils of ^note cherubins ^note; they never see truly.

Cres.

Blind fear, that ^note seeing reason leads, finds safer ^note

footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to fear the worst oft cures the worse ^note.

Tro.

O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. ^note

Cres.

Nor ^note nothing monstrous neither? ^note

Tro.

Nothing, but our ^note undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is ^note the monstruosity ^note in love, lady, that the will is infinite and the execution confined, that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Cres.

They say, all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, are they not monsters?

Tro.

Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit crown it: no perfection ^note in reversion shall have a praise in present: we will not name desert before his birth, and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth ^note, and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.

Cres.

Will you walk in, my lord?

Pan.

What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?

Cres.

Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

Pan.

I thank you for that: if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my lord: if he flinch, chide me for it.

Tro.

You know now your hostages; your uncle's word and my firm faith.

Pan.

Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed ^note, they are constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they are thrown.

Cres.
Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart.
Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day
For many weary months. ^note

Tro.
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?

Cres.
Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord,
With the first glance that ever—pardon ^note me;
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
I love you now; but not, till now, ^note so much
But I might master it: in faith, I lie;
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown ^note
Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools!
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us,
When we are so unsecret to ourselves?
But, though I loved you well, I woo'd you not;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,
Or that we ^note women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
For in this rapture I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see ^note, your silence,
Cunning ^note in dumbness, from ^note my weakness draws

My very soul of counsel ^note! Stop my mouth. ^note

Tro.
And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.

Pan.
Pretty, i' faith.

Cres.
My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss:
I am ashamed; O heavens! what have I done?
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.

Tro.
Your leave, sweet ^note Cressid?

Pan.
Leave! an ^note you take leave till to-morrow morning— ^note

Cres.
Pray you, content you.

Tro.
What offends you, lady?

Cres.
Sir, mine own company.

Tro.
You cannot ^note shun yourself.

Cres.
Let me go and try ^note: ^note
I have a kind of self resides ^{note note} with you,
But an unkind self that itself will leave
To be another's fool. I would be gone:
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. ^note

Tro.
Well know they what they speak that speak ^note so wisely.

Cres.
Perchance, my lord, I show ^note more craft than love,
And fell so roundly to a large confession
To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise;
Or else ^note you ^note love not ^note, for ^note to be wise and love
Exceeds man's might; that ^note dwells with gods above.

Tro.
O that I thought it could be in a woman—
As ^note, if it can, I will presume in you—
To feed for aye ^note her lamp and flames of love;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's ^note outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays!
Or ^note that persuasion could but thus convince me,
That my integrity and truth to you
Might be affronted with the match and weight
Of such a winnowed ^note purity ^note in love;
How were I then uplifted! but, alas!
I am as true as truth's simplicity
And simpler than the infancy of truth.

Cres.
In that I'll war with you.

Tro.
O virtuous fight,
When right with right wars who shall ^note be most right ^note! ^note
True swains in love shall in the world to come ^note
Approve their truths ^note by Troilus: when their rhymes,
Full of protest, of oath and big compare,
Want similes ^note, truth ^note tired with iteration,
‘As true as steel, as plantage to the moon ^note,
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,’
Yet ^note, after all comparisons of truth,
As truth's authentic author ^note to be cited,
‘As true as Troilus’ shall crown up ^note the verse

And sanctify the numbers.

Cres.
Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When ^note time is old and hath ^note forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing, yet let memory,
From false to false, among false maids in love,
Upbraid my falsehood! when they've ^note said ‘as false
As air, as water, wind, or ^note sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, or wolf ^note to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,’
‘Yea,’ let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
‘As false as Cressid.’

Pan.

Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the witness. Here ^note I hold your hand; here my cousin's. ^note If ever you prove false one to ^note another, since I have taken such pains ^note to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name; call them all Pandars; let all constant ^note men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids ^note, and all brokers-between Pandars! Say ‘amen.’

Tro.

Amen.

Cres.

Amen.

Pan.

Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a bed; which bed ^note, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away!

And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here
Bed, chamber, Pandar ^note to provide this gear! [Exit. ^{note note} Scene III. [Footnote: The Grecian camp. ^note Flourish. ^note Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax ^note, Menelaus, and Calchas.

Cal.
Now, princes, for the service I have done you ^note,
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear ^note it to your mind ^note
That, through the sight I bear in things to love ^note, ^note
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession ^note,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all ^note
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 ^note 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? 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—
Desired my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest ^note in their affairs
That their negotiations all must slack,
Wanting his ^note manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of ^note 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 ^note.

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

Dio.
This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to bear. [Exeunt ^note Diomedes and Calchas. Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before ^note their tent.

Ulyss.
Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:
Please it our general pass ^note 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 ^note eyes are bent on ^note him:

If so, I have derision ^note medicinable,
To use between your ^note 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 ^note Agamemnon and Nestor.

Achil.
Good day, good day.

Men.
How do you? how do you? [Exit. ^note

Achil.
What, does the cuckold scorn me?

Ajax.
How now, Patroclus!

Achil.
Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax.
Ha? ^note

Achil.
Good morrow ^note.

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

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

Patr.
They pass by ^note strangely: they were used to bend,
To send their smiles before them to Achilles,
To come as humbly as they used ^note to creep
To holy altars ^note.

Achil.
What, am I poor of late?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declined 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 ^note man,
Hath any ^note honour, but honour for ^note those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, and favour ^note,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love ^note that lean'd on them as slippery too,
Do one ^note pluck down another and together
Die in the fall ^note. 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 ^note rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses:
I'll interrupt his reading. ^note
How now ^note, Ulysses ^note!

Ulyss.
Now, great ^note Thetis' son!

Achil.
What are you reading?

Ulyss.
A strange fellow here
Writes me: ‘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 ^note upon others

Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver ^note.’

Achil.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne ^note here in the face
The bearer knows not, but ^note commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself,
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself ^note,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye ^note opposed
Salutes ^note each other with each other's form:
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd and is married ^note there
Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all ^note.

Ulyss.
I do not strain at ^note the position—
It is familiar—but at ^note the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves
That no man ^note is the lord of any thing,
Though in and of him there be ^note much consisting,
Till he communicate his parts to others;
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them formed ^note in the ^note applause
Where they're ^note extended; who ^note, like an arch, reverberates ^note
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 ^note
The unknown Ajax.

Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature, ^note what things there ^note are,
Most abject ^note in regard and dear in use! ^note
What things again most dear in the esteem
And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow—
An act ^note that very chance doth throw upon him—
Ajax renown'd ^note. ^note O heavens, what some men do,
While some men leave to do! ^note
How some men creep ^note in skittish fortune's hall,
While others play the idiots in her eyes ^note!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting ^note 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 ^note brave Hector's breast
And great Troy shrieking ^note.

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

Ulyss.
Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes ^{note note}:

Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done ^note: perseverance ^note, dear my lord, ^note
Keeps honour bright ^note: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty ^note mail ^note
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ^note;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one ^note but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or hedge ^note aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by
And leave you hindmost:
Or, like a ^note gallant horse fall'n in first ^note rank,
Lie ^note there for pavement to the abject rear, ^note
O'er-run and ^note trampled on: then ^note what they do in present,
Though less than yours in past ^note, must o'ertop yours;
For time is like a fashionable host
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
And with his ^note arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,

Grasps in the comer: ^note welcome ^note ever smiles,
And farewell ^note goes out sighing. O, ^note let not virtue seek
Remuneration ^note for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit ^note,
High birth, vigour of bone, ^note desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity ^note, are subjects all ^note
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And give ^note to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt ^note o'er-dusted ^{note note}.
The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks ^note begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch ^note the eye
Than what not stirs ^note. The cry went once on ^note thee,
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 ^note 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil.
Of this ^note my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Ulyss.
But 'gainst ^note 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? ^note

Ulyss.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold, ^note
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ^note,
Keeps place ^note with thought and almost like the gods
Does thoughts ^note unveil in their dumb cradles ^{note note}.
There is a mystery, with whom ^note relation
Durst never meddle, in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath or pen ^note 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 ^note sound her trump;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing
‘Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him ^note.’

Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit. ^{note note}

Patr.
To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
In time of action ^note. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think my little stomach to the war
And your great love to me restrains you thus:
Sweet, ^note rouse yourself, and the weak wanton Cupid ^note
Shall from your neck unloose ^note his amorous fold,
And, like a ^note dew-drop from the lion's name,
Be shook to air ^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 ^note gored.

Patr.
O, then, beware;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
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 ^note 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 ^note unarm'd ^note: I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his ^note weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view.—A labour saved!

Enter Thersites. ^{note note}

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, a' ^note 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 with a politic regard, as who should say ‘There were wit in this head ^note, an ^note 'twould 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 ^note himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said ‘Good morrow, Ajax;’ and he replies ^note ‘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 ambassador to him ^note, Thersites.

Ther.

Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's arms. 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 ^note valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous ^note and most illustrious six-or-

seven-times-honoured captain-general ^note of the Grecian ^note army, Agamemnon, et cetera. ^note 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 ^note, with all my heart.

Patr.

Your answer, sir.

Ther.

If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the ^note 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 ^note well, with all my heart.

Achil.

Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther.

No, but he's out o' tune ^note thus. What music will be in him ^note 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.

Achil.

Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Ther.

Let me bear ^note 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 ^note 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.