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He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry-No recovery.
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 matter 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 stain 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 fat-already pride;
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! (Aside.) Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash Over the face. [him Agam.

O, no, you shall not go. Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his [pride: Let me go to him. Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow,— Nest. Himself!

Ajax. An all men Were o'my mind,— Ulyss.

How he describes (Aside.)

Ajax. Can he not be sociable?

The raven


Chides blackness.

I will let his humours blood. Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the tient.


Wit would be out of fashion. (Aside.) Ajax. He should not bear it so, He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it? Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. (Aside.) Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. (Aside.) Ajax. I'll knead him, I'll make him supple:Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises:



Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dis(To Agamemnon.) Nest. O noble general, do not do so. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm.

Here is a man-But 'tis before his face; I will be silent.


Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! I would, he were a Trojan ! Nest.

What a vice

If he were proud?

Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition :
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give bim half and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

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.
Shall I call you father?
Nest. Ay, my good son.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart

Were it in Ajax now


Dio. Or covetous of praise?

Ay, or surly borne ?

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected? Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure; Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:

Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy: To-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here's a lord,-come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw

ACT III. SCENE I. Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.

Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not you follow the young lord Paris?

Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.

Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs praise him.

Serv. The lord be praised!

Pan. You know me, do you not?
Serv. 'Faith, sir, superficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord Pandarus.

Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better. Pan. I do desire it.

Serv. You are in a state of grace.

(Music within.) Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles:-What music is this?

Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.

Pan. Know you the musicians?
Serv. Wholly, sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Serv. To the hearers, sir.

Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?

Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Serv. Who shall I command, sir?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whose request do these men play?

Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir: Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul,-.

Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida?

Serv. No, sir, Helen: Could you not find out that by her attributes?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. Serv. Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase, indeed!

Enter PARIS and 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

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-
Helen. Nay, but my lord,—

Pan. What says my sweet queen ?-My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups.

Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. 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 sayCressida? 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.

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. [twain.

Pan. He! no, she'll none of him; they two are
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.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more!

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, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is


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.

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. Ay, you may, you may.

Pan. Walk here i'the orchard, I'll bring her
Tro. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet,
That it enchants my sense; What will it be,
When that the watry palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,

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. Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, Pan. In good troth, it begins so:

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.

[Exit. (A retreat sounded.) Par. They are come from field: let us to Priam's hall, [you, To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo 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 thee. [Exeunt.
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

Pan. O, here he comes.-How now, how now?
Tro. Sirrah, walk off.
[Exit Servant.

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 as short as a newta'en sparrow.

[Exit. Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bo


My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring
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 fills. 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 day-light! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on; and kiss the mistress. How now, a kiss in feefarm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part you. The falcon as 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 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.


Cres. Will you walk in, my lord? Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus! [my lord! Cres. Wished, my lord?-The gods grant!-0 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 eyes! [truly. Tro. Fears make devils cherubim; they never see Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: To fear the worst, oft cures the worst.

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. This is the monstruosity 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 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?

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:

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

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
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us,
Too headstrong for their mother: See, we fools!
But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;
When we are so unsecret to ourselves?
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man;
Or that we women had men's privilege
For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
The thing I shall repent! See, see, your silence,
Cunning in dumbness, 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; I am asham'd;-O heavens! what have I done? 'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss: 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. Yourself.

You cannot shun

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. I would be gone:-. Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. Tro. Well know they what they speak, that speak so wisely.

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

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

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
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,

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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 allPandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen.

Tro. Amen.

Cres. Amen.

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death:

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Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done

The 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 Jove
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possessions,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequest'ring 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,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agam. What would'st thou of us, Trojan? make


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 affairs, 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 Diomed bear him, And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have

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The better.

[Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. Achil. Good day, good day. Men. How do you? how do you? [Exit. Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me? Ajax. How now, Patroclus? Achil.

Good morrow, Ajax, Ha?


Achil. Good morrow.
Ajax. Ay, and good next day too. [Exit.
Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they
not Achilles?

Patr. They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend,

To send their smiles before them to Achilles ;
To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.


What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, Greatness, once fallen out with fortune,

Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,
Shew not their mealy wings, but to the summer;
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
Do 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?

Now, great Thetis' son?
Achil. What are you reading?
A strange fellow here
Writes me, That man-how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without, or în,—

Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.


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 itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd

Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd, and is married there,
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
Who, 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,

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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 fasting in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrinking.

Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars; neither gave to me
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot?
Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done Perséverance, 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 hedge aside 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 on: Then what they do in

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours: For time is like a fashionable host,

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 dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

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 smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue
Remuneration for the thing it was!
For beauty, wit,

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
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 them-
And drave great Mars to faction.
Of this my privacy

A chil.

I have strong reasons.


But 'gainst your privacy The reasons are more potent and heroical: 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.

Ha! known?


Ulyss. Is that a wonder?

The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
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 commérce 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 break.

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


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.


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
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd!
Ther. A wonder!

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