Helen, attended.
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, 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 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 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.
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
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—
-- 64 --
Helen.
My lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,—
Pan.
Go to, sweet queen, go to:—commends himself
most affectionately to you.
Helen.
You shall not bob us out of our melody: if
you do, our melancholy upon your head.
Pan.
Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet
queen,—i'faith—
Helen.
And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour
offence.
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 will make his excuse.
Helen.
My lord Pandarus,—
Pan.
What says my sweet queen,—my very very
sweet queen?
Par.
What exploit's in hand? where sups he to-night?
Helen.
Nay, but my lord,—
Pan.
What says my sweet queen?—My cousin will
fall out with you. You must not know where he
sups8 note.
Par.
I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. 11Q0836
Pan.
No, no; no such matter, you are wide. Come,
your disposer is sick.
Par.
Well, I'll make excuse.
Pan.
Ay, good my lord. Why should you say
Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.
Par.
I spy.
Pan.
You spy! what do you spy?—Come, give me
an instrument.—Now, sweet queen.
Helen.
Why, this is kindly done.
-- 65 --
Pan.
My niece is horribly 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.
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, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet
lord, thou hast a fine forehead.
Pan.
Ay, you may, you may.
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:
Love, love, nothing but love, still more9 note
!
For, oh! love's bow
Shoots buck and doe:
The shaft confounds,
Not that it wounds
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry—Oh! oh! they die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still:
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!—hey ho!
Helen.
In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose.
Par.
He eats nothing but doves, love; and that
breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts,
-- 66 --
and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is
love.
Pan.
Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot
thoughts, and hot deeds?—Why, they are vipers: is
love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field
to-day?
Par.
Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all
the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day,
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.
[Exit.
[A Retreat sounded.
Par.
They're come from field: 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 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 servant, Paris:
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty,
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have:
Yea, overshines ourself.
Par.
Sweet, above thought I love thee1 note.
[Exeunt.
-- 67 --
SCENE II.
The Same. Pandarus' Orchard.
Enter Pandarus and a Servant, meeting.
Pan.
How now! where's thy master? at my cousin
Cressida's?
Serv.
No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him
thither.
Enter Troilus.
Pan.
O! here he comes.—How now, how now!
Tro.
Sirrah, walk off.
[Exit Servant.
Pan.
Have you seen my cousin?
Tro.
No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O! be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver. O, gentle Pandarus!
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.
Pan.
Walk here i' the orchard. I'll bring her straight.
[Exit Pandarus.
Tro.
I am giddy: expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-repured nectar 11Q08372 note? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness3 note,
-- 68 --
For the capacity of my ruder 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 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: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain: she
fetches her breath so short as a new-ta'en sparrow.
[Exit Pandarus.
Tro.
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker4 note than a feverous pulse,
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan.
Come, come, what need you blush? 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 you
draw backward, we'll put you i' the fills5 note.—Why do you
not speak to her?—Come, draw this curtain, and let's
see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to
offend daylight! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner.
So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress6 note. How now! a
kiss in fee-farm7 note? build there, carpenter; the air is
-- 69 --
sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part
you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' the
river8 note: 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 of the deeds too, if she call your activity
in question. What! billing again? Here's—“In witness
whereof the parties interchangeably”—Come in,
come in: I'll go get a fire.
[Exit Pandarus.
Cres.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Tro.
O Cressida! how often have I wished me thus?
Cres.
Wished, my lord?—The gods grant!—O my
lord!
Tro.
What should they grant? what makes this
pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my
sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
Cres.
More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes9 note.
Tro.
Fears make devils of cherubins1 note; they never
see truly.
Cres.
Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer
footing than blind reason, stumbling without fear: to
fear the worst, oft cures the worse.
Tro.
O! let my lady apprehend no fear: in all
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.
Cres.
Nor nothing monstrous neither?
Tro.
Nothing, but our 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.
-- 70 --
This is the monstrosity 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 it2 note. No perfection 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; and what truth
can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
Cres.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Re-enter Pandarus.
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, 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.—
-- 71 --
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day
For many weary months.
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 me,—
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
I love you now; but not, till now, so much
But I might master it.—In faith, I lie:
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
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 lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,
Or that we 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! your silence,
Cunning in dumbness3 note, from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth.
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 asham'd:—O heavens! what have I done?—
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
Tro.
Your leave, sweet Cressid?
Pan.
Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,—
Cres.
Pray you, content you.
Tro.
What offends you, lady?
Cres.
Sir, mine own company.
Tro.
You cannot shun
Yourself.
-- 72 --
Cres.
Let me go and try.
I have a kind of self resides with you;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave,
To be another's fool. 11Q0838 I would be gone.—
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak4 note
.
Tro.
Well know they what they speak, that speak so wisely.
Cres.
Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love,
And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise,
Or else you love not, for to be wise, and love,
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.
Tro.
O! that I thought it could be in a woman,
(As, if it can, I will presume in you)
To feed for aye5 note her lamp and flames of love;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays:
Or, 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 winnow'd purity 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 be most right.
True swains in love shall, in the world to come,
Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes,
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
-- 73 --
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration,—
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon6 note,
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,—
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.
Cres.
Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath 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 have said—as false
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf 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 I hold your hand; here, my cousin's.
If ever you prove false one to another, since I
have taken such pains 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 men
be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between
Pandars! say, amen.
Tro.
Amen.
-- 74 --
Cres.
Amen.
Pan.
Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber;
which bed7 note, because it shall not speak of your
pretty encounters, press it to death: away!
And Cupid grant all tongued-tied maidens here,
Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor,
Ajax, Menelaus, and Calchas.
Cal.
Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
Th' advantage of the time prompts me, aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove8 note
I have abandon'd Troy, 11Q0839 left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering 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 register'd in promise,
-- 75 --
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,
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 affairs9 note,
That their negociations 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.
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 Tent1 note.
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,
-- 76 --
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 derision medicinable,
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.
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,
-- 77 --
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 for those honours2 note
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,
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 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 parted3 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 upon others4 note
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
-- 78 --
To the first giver.
Achill.
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
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself5 note,
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 married there
Where it may see itself. 11Q0840 This is not strange at all.
Ulyss.
I do not strain at the position6 note,
It is familiar, but at the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance 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 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
The unknown Ajax.
Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature! what things there are,
Most abject 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 renowned. O heavens! what some men do,
-- 79 --
While some men leave to do.
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting7 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 brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrieking 11Q08418 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,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion;
A great-sized 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 strait 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 edge aside9 note from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on1 note. Then, what they do in present,
-- 80 --
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 smiles2 note,
And farewell goes out sighing. Let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
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 to dust3 note, that is a little gilt,
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 11Q08424 note,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
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 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.
Achil.
Of this my privacy
I have strong reasons.
Ulyss.
But 'gainst your privacy
-- 81 --
The reasons are more potent and heroical.
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.
Achil.
Ha! known?
Ulyss.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold5 note,
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps,
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. 11Q0843
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state,
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, 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 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.”
Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break6 note.
[Exit.
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,
-- 82 --
And your great love to me, restrains you thus.
Sweet, rouse yourself; 11Q0844 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 air7 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.
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 sit idly in the sun.
Achil.
Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
T' 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.
-- 83 --
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 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 show without knocking.
The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not
his neck i' the combat, he'll break 't 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 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. I will put on his presence:
let Patroclus make his 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 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 army8 note, 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.—
-- 84 --
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 music
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.
Achil.
Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
Ther.
Let me bear another to his horse9 note, 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.
[Exit.
-- 85 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
