Thersites.
Ajax.
Thersites,—
Ther.
Agamemnon—how if he had boiles—full,
all over, generally.
[Talking to himself.
-- 397 --
Ajax.
Thersites,—
Ther.
And those boils 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.
1 noteSpeak then, you windyest 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 jade's 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.
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: ay, that thou
bark'st at him.
Ajax.
Mistress Thersites!—
Ther.
Thou shouldst strike him.
Ajax.
Cobloaf!
-- 398 --
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, 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, 2 note
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?
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.
-- 399 --
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, I must hold you.
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 tenour of
the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
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
-- 400 --
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 3 noteere your 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 clotplotes, 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?
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.
-- 401 --
SCENE III.
Changes to 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 fear 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 dismes
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, not 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?
Tro.
Fie, fie, my brother:
Weigh you the worth and honour of a King
(So great as 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, though you bite so sharp at reasons,
-- 402 --
You are so empty of them. Should not our father
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,
4 note
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorb'd!—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make livers pale, and lustyhood deject.
Hect.
Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
The holding.
Troi.
What is aught, but as 'tis valued?
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,
To make the service greater than the God;
5 noteAnd the Will dotes, that is inclinable
To what infectiously itself affects,
6 note
Without some image of th' affected's merit.
-- 403 --
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 traded 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 stale 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 do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar that estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base!
7 note
What we have stoln that we do fear to keep!
-- 404 --
Base thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n.
Who in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!
Cas. [within.]
Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.
What noise, what shriek is this?
Troi.
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.
Cas. [within.]
Cry, Trojans!
Hect.
It is Cassandra.
SCENE IV.
Enter Cassandra, with her hair about her ears.
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 these high strains
Of Divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse? Or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
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
-- 405 --
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 merely to myself
The pleasures such a Beauty brings with it:
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,
-- 406 --
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
When 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:
(a) noteBut on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloz'd but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
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: &wlquo;for pleasure and revenge
&wlquo;Have ears more deaf than adders, to the voice
&wlquo;Of any true decision.&wrquo; 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,
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 Nation, 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 sprightly brethren, 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.
-- 407 --
Troi.
Why, there you touch'd the life of our design:
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 advertiz'd, their great General slept,
Whilst emulation in the army crept:
This, I presume, will wake him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Before Achilles's Tent, in 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
-- 408 --
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 itself
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 slipt out of my contemplation;
but it is no matter, thyself upon thyself! 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 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 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!
-- 409 --
Ther.
Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me,
Patroclus, what's Achilles?
Patr.
Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray
thee, what's thyself?
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.
SCENE VI.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Calchas.
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!
[Exit.
-- 410 --
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.
8 note
He shent 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.
Ulyss.
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?
Ulyss.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who, Thersites?
Ulyss.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost
his argument.
Ulyss.
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.
Ulyss.
The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly
may easily untye.
-- 411 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Patroclus.
Here comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him?
Ulyss.
The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie;
His legs are for necessity, not flexure.
Patr.
Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasre
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 all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
And like fair fruit in an unwholsome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
In self-assumption greater than in note
Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-go in an observing kind
His humourous predominance; yea, watch
(a) noteHis pettish lunes, his ebbs and flows; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
-- 412 --
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 giant; 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 itself but in the deed, devours the
deed in the praise.
SCENE VIII.
Re-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?
Ulyss.
Achilles will not to the field to morrow.
Aga.
What's his excuse?
Ulyss.
He doth rely on none;
-- 413 --
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
9 noteIn 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?
Ulyss.
Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,
He makes important: 1 notehe's possest with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth
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 down 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.
Ulyss.
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,
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, (save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself,) shall he be worshipp'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,
-- 414 --
(As amply titled, as Achilles is,) by going to Achilles:
That were t' inlard his pride, 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.
Ulyss.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax.
A paltry insolent fellow—
Nest.
How he describes himself!
Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?
Ulyss.
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—
Ulyss.
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.
Ulyss.
He would have ten shares.
2 noteAjax.
I will knead him, I'll make him supple—
Nest.
He is not yet through warm: force him with
praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.
Ulyss.
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.
Ulyss.
Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
-- 415 --
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.
Ulyss.
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—
Ulyss.
If he were proud.
Dio.
Or covetous of praise.
Ulyss.
Ay, or surly borne.
Dio.
Or strange, or self-affected.
Ulyss.
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:
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?
Ulyss.
Ay, my good son.
Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulyss.
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,
-- 416 --
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;
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
[Exeunt.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
