Imatges de pÓgina

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the pa

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Ajax. He should not bear it so,

He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it?

Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half.


He'd have ten shares.



Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple: Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force him with

praises :

Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

[Aside. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.


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. But 'tis before his face;

Here is a man

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 !


Were it in Ajax now



What a vice

If he were proud?

Dio. Or covetous of praise?

"He will be the"- MALONE.

- force him—] i. e. stuff him. Farcir, Fr.

7 He is not emulous,] Emulous, in this instance, and perhaps in

some others, may well enough be supposed to signify — jealous of higher authority.


that shall palter -] That shall juggle with us, or fly from his engagements.

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Ay, or surly borne?

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected?

Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet


Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck :

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 him half: and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield9

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn1, 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


Nest. Ay, my good son.


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,

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.

9 Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield—] i. e. yield his titles, his celebrity for strength. Addition, in legal language, is the title given to each party, showing his degree, occupation, &c. as esquire, gentleman, yeoman, merchant, &c.

Our author here, as usual, pays no regard to chronology. Milo of Croton lived long after the Trojan war.


like a bourn,] A bourn is a boundary, and sometimes a rivulet dividing one place from another.

Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:

Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.



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 the state of grace. [Musick within. Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles: What musick is this?

Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is musick 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 musick.

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 musick.

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.2

in fits.] i. e. now and then, by fits; or perhaps a quibble is intended. A fit was a part or division of a song, sometimes a strain in musick, and sometimes a measure in dancing.

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

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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 it not in truth, la.


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shall not serve your turn; that shall Nay, I care not for such words: 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 sups. Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide3; 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.

you are wide ;] i. e. wide of your mark; a common exclamation when an archer missed his aim.

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