ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent

ULYSSES. Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent.

Please it our general pa.s.s strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, Princes all, Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.

I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him?

If so, I have derision med'cinable 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 gla.s.s To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.

AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put on A form of strangeness as we pa.s.s 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.

ACHILLES. What comes the general to speak with me?

You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.

AGAMEMNON. What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?

NESTOR. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

ACHILLES. No.

NESTOR. Nothing, my lord.

AGAMEMNON. The better.

Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR ACHILLES. Good day, good day.

MENELAUS. How do you? How do you?

Exit ACHILLES. What, does the cuckold scorn me?

AJAX. How now, Patroclus?

ACHILLES. Good morrow, Ajax.

AJAX. Ha?

ACHILLES. Good morrow.

AJAX. Ay, and good next day too.

Exit ACHILLES. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

PATROCLUS. They pa.s.s 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.

ACHILLES. What, am I poor of late?

'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n 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 b.u.t.terflies, Show 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, 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!

ULYSSES. Now, great Thetis' son!

ACHILLES. What are you reading?

ULYSSES. A strange fellow here Writes me that man-how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without or in- Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver.

ACHILLES. 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 opposed Salutes each other with each other's form; For speculation turns not to itself Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.

ULYSSES. I do not strain at the position- It is familiar-but at the author's drift; Who, in his circ.u.mstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of anything, 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 formed in th' applause Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate 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 Th' 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 renown'd. O heavens, what some men do, 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 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.

ACHILLES. I do believe it; for they pa.s.s'd by me As misers do by beggars-neither gave to me Good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?

ULYSSES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-siz'd monster of ingrat.i.tudes.

Those sc.r.a.ps 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 mock'ry. 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 ent'red tide they all rush by And leave you hindmost; Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'er-run and trampled on. Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand; And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the corner. The welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, 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 dust 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 Than what stirs not. The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive And case thy reputation in thy tent, Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late Made emulous missions 'mongst the G.o.ds themselves, And drave great Mars to faction.

ACHILLES. Of this my privacy I have strong reasons.

ULYSSES. 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.

ACHILLES. Ha! known!

ULYSSES. Is that a wonder?

The providence that's in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold; Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps; Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the G.o.ds, Do 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 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 island 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.

Exit PATROCLUS. 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 airy air.

ACHILLES. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

PATROCLUS. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.

ACHILLES. I see my reputation is at stake; My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

PATROCLUS. 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 they sit idly in the sun.

ACHILLES. Go call Thersites. .h.i.ther, sweet Patroclus.

I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him T' invite the Troyan lords, after the combat, To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing, An appet.i.te 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.

Enter THERSITES

A labour sav'd!

THERSITES. A wonder!

ACHILLES. What?

THERSITES. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself.

ACHILLES. How so?

THERSITES. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing.

ACHILLES. How can that be?

THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peac.o.c.k-a stride and a stand; ruminaies 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' th' combat, he'll break't himself in vainglory. 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 leather jerkin.

ACHILLES. Thou must be my amba.s.sador to him, Thersites.

THERSITES. Who, I? Why, he'll answer n.o.body; he professes not answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most ill.u.s.trious six-or-seven-times-honour'd Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Do this.

PATROCLUS. Jove bless great Ajax!

THERSITES. Hum!

PATROCLUS. I come from the worthy Achilles- THERSITES. Ha!

PATROCLUS. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent- THERSITES. Hum!

PATROCLUS. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.

THERSITES. Agamemnon!

PATROCLUS. Ay, my lord.

THERSITES. Ha!

PATROCLUS. What you say to't?

THERSITES. G.o.d buy you, with all my heart.

PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.

THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clock it will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.

PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.

THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart.

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

THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.

ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.