Thersites.
Ajax.
THERSITES.
Ther.
Agamemnon—how if he had biles—
full, all over generally.
[Talking to himself.
Ajax.
Thersites.
Ther.
And those biles did run—say so—did
not the general run, were not that a botchy core?
Ajax.
Dog.
Ther.
Then there would come some matter from him: I see
none now.
Ajax.
Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? feel then.
[Strikes him.
Ther.
The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted
lord.
Ajax.
Speak then, you f noteunsalted leaven, speak, I will beat
thee into handsomness.
Ther.
I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think
thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer
without book: thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o'thy
jades tricks.
Ajax.
Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.
Ther.
Doest thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus?
Ajax.
The proclamation.
Ther.
Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.
Ajax.
Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.
-- 34 --
Ther.
I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had
the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathsom'st scab in
Greece.
Ajax.
I say, the proclamation.
Ther.
Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and
thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's
beauty. I, that thou bark'st at him.
Ajax.
Mistress Thersites.
Ther.
Thou shouldst strike him.
Ajax.
Cobloaf.
Ther.
He would pound thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor
breaks a bisket.
Ajax.
You whorson cur.
[Beating him.
Ther.
Do, do.
Ajax.
Thou stool for a witch.
Ther.
Ay, do, thou sodden-witted lord; thou hast no more
brain than I have in my elbows: an Assinego may tutor thee.
Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash Trojans,
and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian
slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel,
and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou.
Ajax.
You dog.
Ther.
You scurvy lord.
Ajax.
You cur.
[Beating him.
Ther.
Mars his ideot! do rudeness, do camel, do, do.
SCENE II.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil.
Why how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this?
How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man?
Ther.
You see him there, do you?
Achil.
Ay, what's the matter?
-- 35 --
Ther.
Nay look upon him.
Achil.
So I do, what's the matter?
Ther.
Nay, but regard him well.
Achil.
Well, why I do so.
Ther.
But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you
take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil.
I know that, fool.
Ther.
Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax.
Therefore I beat thee.
Ther.
Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his evasions
have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain more than he
has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and
his Pia Mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This
lord (Achilles) Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts
in his head, I'll tell you what I say of him.
Achil.
What?
[Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes.
Ther.
I say, this Ajax.—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
Ther.
Has not so much wit—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
Ther.
As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he
comes to fight.
Achil.
Peace, fool.
Ther.
I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not:
he there, that he, look you there.
Ajax.
O thou damn'd cur, I shall—
Achil.
Will you set your wit to a fool's?
Ther.
No, I warrant you, for a fool's will shame it.
Pat.
Good words, Thersites.
Achil.
What's the quarrel?
Ajax,
I bad the vile owl go learn me the tenure of the proclamation,
and he rails upon me.
-- 36 --
Ther.
I serve thee not.
Ajax.
Well, go to, go to.
Ther.
I serve here voluntary.
Achil.
Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary,
no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and
you as under an impress.
Ther.
Ev'n so—a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews,
or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he
knock out either of your brains, he were as good crack a fusty
nut with no kernel.
Achil.
What, with me too, Thersites?
Ther.
There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, (whose wit was mouldy
ere their Grandsires had nails on their toes,) yoke you like draft
oxen, and make you plough up the wair.
Achil.
What! what!
Ther.
Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Ajax, to—
Ajax.
I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther.
'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.
Pat.
No more words, Thersites.
Ther.
I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I?
Achil.
There's for you, Patroclus.
Ther.
I will see you hang'd like clotpoles, ere I come any more
to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the
faction of fools
[Exit.
Pat.
A good riddance.
Achil.
Marry this, Sir, is proclaim'd through all our host,
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach, such a one that dare
Maintain I know not what: 'tis trash, farewel.
Ajax.
Farewel! who shall answer him?
-- 37 --
Achil.
I know not, 'tis put to lott'ry; otherwise
He knew his man.
Ajax.
O, meaning you: I'll go learn more of it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Priam's Palace in Troy.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus.
Pri.
After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:
Deliver Helen, and all damage else
(As honour, loss of time, travel, expence,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war)
Shall be struck off. Hector, what say you to't?
Hect.
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,
As far as touches my particular; yet
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out, who knows what follows?
Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise; the tent that searches
To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go.
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Ev'ry tithe soul 'mongst many thousand † notedismes
Hath been as dear as Helen. I mean of ours.
If we have lost so many tenths of ours
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us
(Had it our name) the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason, which denies
The yielding of her up?
-- 38 --
Troi.
Fie, fie, my brother:
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
(So great is our dread father) in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The vast proportion of his infinite?
And buckle in a waste, most fathomless,
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? fie for godly shame!
Hel.
No marvel, tho' you bite so sharp at reasons,
You're empty of them. Should not our father Priam
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none that tells him so?
Troi.
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest,
You fur your gloves with reasons. Here are your reasons.
You know an enemy intends you harm,
You know, a sword imploy'd is perillous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels then when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
† noteAnd fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
† noteOr like a star dis-orb'd.—Nay if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have g notehare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make h notelivers pale, and lustyhood deject.
Hect.
Brother, she is not worth
What she doth cost the holding.
Troi.
What's ought, but as 'tis valu'd?
Hect.
But Value dwells not in particular will,
It holds its estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of it self,
As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,
-- 39 --
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is † noteinclinable
To what infectiously it self affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.
Troi.
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
(Two trading pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment.) How may I avoid
(Although my will distaste what is elected)
The wife I chuse? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant
When we have spoil'd them; nor th' remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective place,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd;
And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive,
He brought a Grecian queen whose youth and freshness
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes i note pale the morning.
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt:
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants—
If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd, go, go:)
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clap'd your hands
And cry'd, inestimable;) why d' you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
-- 40 --
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar that estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base!
That we have stoln what we do fear to keep!
But thieves, unworthy of a thing so stoln,
Who in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place.
SCENE IV.
Enter Cassandra with her hair about her ears.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.
What noise? what shriek is this?
Troi.
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans!
Hect.
It is Cassandra.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry; lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetick tears.
Hect.
Peace, sister, peace.
Cas.
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled old,
Soft infancy, that nothing can but cry,
Add to my clamour! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come:
Cry, Trojans, cry, practise your eyes with tears.
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand:
Our fire-brand brother, Paris burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a wo;
Cry, cry, Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit.
Hect.
Now, youthful Troilus, do not the high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse? Or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason
-- 41 --
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualifie the same?
Troi.
Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Cassandra's mad; her brain-sick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our several honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons,
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen,
To fight for and maintain.
Par.
Else might the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings, as your counsels:
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
For what, alas, can these my single arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite? yet I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.
Pri.
Paris, you speak
Like one besotted on your sweet delights;
You have the honey still, but these the gall,
So to be valiant is no praise at all.
Par.
Sir, I propose not meerly to my self,
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it:
-- 42 --
But I would have the soil of her fair rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up,
On terms of base compulsion? can it be,
That so degenerate a strain as this
Should once set footing in your generous bosoms?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended: none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subject. Then, I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.
Hect.
Paris and Troilus, you have both said well:
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloss'd, but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom i notegraver sages think
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
The reasons you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood,
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong: for pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision. Nature craves
All dues be render'd to their owners; now
What nearer debt in all humanity,
Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benummed wills, resist the same;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
-- 43 --
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king,
(As it is known she is) these moral laws
Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud
To have her back return'd. Thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless,
My spritely brethen, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still;
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance,
Upon our joint and several dignities.
Troi.
Why there you touch'd the life of our designs:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theam of honour and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us.
For I presume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.
Hect.
I am yours,
You valiant off-spring of great Priamus,
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsie spirits.
I was advertis'd, their great general slept,
This I presume will wake him—
[Exeunt.
-- 44 --
SCENE V.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Thersites solus.
How now, Thersites? what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury?
shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me,
and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise;
that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me: 'sfoot, I'll
learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful
execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If
Troy be not taken 'till these two undermine it, the walls will
stand 'till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter
of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and
Mercury lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou
take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that
they have; which short-arm'd ignorance it self knows is so abundant
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider,
without drawing the massy irons and cutting the web. After
this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather the bone-ach,
for that methinks is the curse dependant on those that war for
a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say Amen.
What ho! my lord Achilles!
Enter Patroclus
Patr.
Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites come in and rail.
Ther.
If I could have remember'd a gilt counter, thou could'st
not have slip'd out of my contemplation, but it is no matter, thy
self upon thy self! The common curse of mankind, folly and
ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor,
and discipline come not near thee. Let thy blood be thy
direction 'till thy death, then if she that lays thee out says thou
-- 45 --
art a fair coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrowded
any but Lazars; Amen. Where's Achilles?
Patr.
What, art thou devout? wast thou in a prayer?
Ther.
Ay, the heav'ns hear me.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Who's there?
Patr.
Thersites, my lord.
Achil.
Where, where? art thou come? why, my cheese, my
digestion—why hast thou not served thy self up to my table, so
many meals? come, what's Agamemnon?
Ther.
Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus,
what's Achilles?
Patr.
Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's
thy self?
Ther.
Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus, what
art thou?
Patr.
Thou may'st tell, that know'st.
Achil.
O tell, tell.
Ther.
I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands
Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus's knower, and Patroclus
is a fool.
Patr.
You rascal—
Ther.
Peace, fool, I have not done.
Achil.
He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Thersites.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Thersites is a
fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.
Achil.
Derive this; come.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles,
Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon, Thersites
is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.
Patr.
Why am I a fool!
Ther.
Make that demand to thy creator, it suffices me thou art.
-- 46 --
SCENE VI.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Chalcas.
Look you, who comes here?—
Achil.
Patroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me,
Thersites.
[Exit.
Ther.
Here is such patchery, such jugling, and such knavery:
all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to
draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon: now the dry
Serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all.
Aga.
Where is Achilles?
Patr.
Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my lord.
Aga.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
He sent our messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Let him be told so, lest perchance he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patr.
I shall so say to him.
[Exit.
Ulys.
We saw him at the opening of his tent,
He is not sick.
Ajax.
Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it
melancholy, if you will favour the man, but by my head 'tis
pride; but why, why?—let him shew us the cause. A word,
my lord.
[To Agamemnon.
Nest.
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulys.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who, Thersites?
Ulys.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.
-- 47 --
Ulys.
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 counsel that a fool could disunite.
Ulys.
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily
untye.
SCENE VII.
Enter Patroclus.
Here comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him?
Ulys.
The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie;
His legs are for necessity, not k noteflexure.
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,
To call on him; he hopes it is no other,
But for your health and your digestion-sake;
An after-dinner's breath.
Aga.
Hear you, Patroclus;
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outflie our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
And like fair fruit in an unwholsom dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him, you shall not sin
If you do say we think him over-proud,
In self-assumption greater than in note
-- 48 --
Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-goe in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
l noteHis course and times, his ebbs and flows; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lye under this report.
Bring action hither, this can't go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a sleeping gyant; tell him so.
Patr.
I shall, and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.
Aga.
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter.
[Exit Ulysses.
Ajax.
What is he more than another?
Aga.
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?
Aga.
No question.
Ajax.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?
Aga.
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 it is.
Aga.
Your mind is 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 it self but in the
deed, devours the deed in the praise.
-- 49 --
SCENE VIII.
Enter Ulysses.
Ajax.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendring of
toads.
Nest.
Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys.
Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Aga.
What's his excuse?
Ulys.
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.
Aga.
Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his person, and share the air with us?
Ulys.
Things small as nothing, for request's sake only
He makes important: he's possest with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd m noteworth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters n notedown himself; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, no recovery.
Aga.
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.
Ulys.
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,
-- 50 --
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself? shall he be worship'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 o notepride, already fat,
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him? Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder, Achilles go to him.
Nest.
O this is well, he rubs the vein of him.
Dio.
And how his silence drinks up this applause!
Ajax.
If I go to him—with my armed fist
I'll pash him o'er the face.
Aga.
O no, you shall not go.
Ajax.
An he be proud with me, I'll pheese his pride; let me
go to him.
Ulys.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax.
A paultry insolent fellow—
Nest.
How he describes himself.
Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?
Ulys.
The raven chides blackness,
Ajax.
I'll let his humours blood.
Aga.
He'll be the physician, that should be the patient.
Ajax.
And all men were o'my mind—
Ulys.
Wit would be out of fashion.
Ajax.
He should not bear it so, he should eat swords first:
shall pride carry it?
Nest.
An 'twould, you'd carry half.
Ulys.
He would have ten shares.
-- 51 --
Ajax.
I will knead him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet
through warm.
Nest.
Force him with praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition
is dry.
Ulys.
My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Nest.
Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio.
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulys.
Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a man—but 'tis before his face—
I will be silent.
Nest.
Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulys.
Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax.
A whorson dog! that palters thus with us—
Would he were a Trojan!
Nest.
What a vice were it in Ajax now—
Ulys.
If he were proud.
Dio.
Or covetous of praise.
Ulys.
Ay, or surly born.
Dio.
Or strange, or self-affected.
Ulys.
Thank the heav'ns, lord, thou art of sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half; and for thy vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yields
To sinewy Ajax; I'll not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor
Instructed by the Antiquary times;
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:
-- 52 --
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax.
Shall I call you father?
Ulys.
Ay, my good son.
Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulys.
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; to-morrow, friends,
We must with all our main of pow'r stand fast:
And here's a lord (come knights from east to west,
And cull their flow'r,) Ajax, shall cope the best.
Aga.
Go we to council, let Achilles sleep;
p noteLight boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
