!

Cal.

SCENE VI.

The Grecian Camp.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Diomedes, Neftor, Menelaus,

Now, Princes,

and Calchas.

WOW, Princes, for the service I have done you,
Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompence: appear it to you

That, through the fight I bear in things to come,
I have abandon'd Troy, left my poffeffion,
Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd my self,
From certain and poffeft conveniencies,
To doubtful fortunes; fequeftred from all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and moft familiar to my nature.
And here to do you fervice am become
As new into the world, ftrange, unacquainted.
I do beseech you, as in way of tafte,
To give me now a little benefit,

Out of those many registred in promise,

Which you fay live to come in my behalf.

Aga. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.
Cal. You have a Trojan prifoner, call'd Antenor,
Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore)
Defir'd my Crefid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still deny'd: but this Antenor,
I know, is fuch a wrest in their affairs,
That their negociations all must slack,
Wanting this manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince o' th' blood, a son of Priam,

In change of him. Let him be fent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain.

Aga. Let Diomedes bear him,

And bring us Creffid hither: Calchas fhall have
What he requests of us. Good Diomede,
Furnish you fairly for this enterchange;
Withall, bring word if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
Dio. This fhall I undertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to bear.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus, in their tent.

Uly. Achilles ftands i'th' entrance of his tent;
Please it our general to pass 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 queftion me,
Why fuch unplaufive eyes are bent on him?
If fo, I have decision medicinable

To use between our strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have defire to drink.
It may do good: Pride hath no other glass
To fhew it self, but pride; for fupple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.

Aga. 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.

[Exit.

· Achil

Achil. What, comes the general to fpeak with me? You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. Aga. What fays Achilles? would he ought with us? Neft. Would you, my lord, ought with the general? Achil. No.

Neft. Nothing, my lord.

Aga. The better.

Achil. Good day, good day.

Men. How do you? how do you?

Achil. What, does the cuckold fcorn me?
Ajax. How now, Patroclus?

Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax. Ha?

Achil. Good morrow.

Ajax. Ay, and good next day too.

[Exeunt.

Achil. What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?

Patr. They pals by ftrangely: they were us❜d to bend, To fend their fmiles 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 fall'n out with fortune 'Muft fall out with men too: what the declin'd is, He fhall as foon read in the eyes of others,

As feel in his own fall: for men, like butter-flies, 'Shew not their mealy wings but to the summer; And not a man, for being fimply man,

Hath honour, but is honour'd by those honours That are without him; as place, riches, favour, • Prizes of accident as oft as merit:

Which when they fall (as being flipp'ry standers)
The love that lean'd on them, as flipp'ry too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together

Dye

Dye in the fall. But 'tis not fo with me:
Fortune and I are friends, I do enjoy

At ample point all that I did poffess,

Save these men's looks, who do methinks find out
Something in me not worth that rich beholding
As they have often giv'n. Here is Ulyffes.
I'll interrupt his reading. ----Now Ulyffes?
Ulys. Now, Thetis' fon!

Achil. What are you reading?
Ulys. A ftrange 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 fhining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

Achil. This is not ftrange, Ulyffes.

The beauty that is born here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends it self
† To others eyes: nor doth the eye it self.
† (That most pure spirit of sense) behold it self
Not going from it self, but eyes oppos'd
Salute each other with each others form.
For fpeculation turns not to it self,

'Till it hath travell'd, and is marry'd there
Where it may fee its felf; this is not strange.
Ulys. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance exprefly proves

That no man is the lord of any thing,

(Tho' in and of him there is much confifting)

'Till he communicate his parts to others:

I 2

Thefe two lines are totally omitted in all the editions but the first quarto.

Nor

Nor doth he of himself know them for ought,
'Till he behold them formed in th' applause

Where they're extended; which like an arch reverb'rates
The voice again, or like a gate of steel

Fronting the fun, receives and renders back

His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this,
And apprehended here immediately

The unknown Ajax·

Heav'ns! what a man is there? a very horse,
'He knows not his own nature: What things are
Most abject in regard, and dear in use?
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth? now fhall we fee to-morrow
An act that very chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! O heav'ns, what some men do,
While fome men leave to do!

How fome men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes:
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonness!
To fee thefe Grecian lords! why ev'n already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy fhrinking.

Achil. This I do believe,

They pass'd by me, as mifers do by beggars,
Neither gave to me good word, nor good look:
What, are my deeds forgot?

Uly. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion:

(A great-fiz'd monster of ingratitudes)

Thofe fcraps are good deeds paft, which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon

• That has he knows not what nature, what things are, &c.

• As