Imatges de pÓgina


Enter Ulysses. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendring of toads.

Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys, Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

Aga. Whats his excuse ?

Ulys. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In 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 ?

Ulys. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only
He makes important: he's poffest 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.

Ulys. 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,
Vol VI.

And n 'gainst it self.

m writha

And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, fave such as do revolve
And ruminate himself? Thall he be worship’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,
(As amply titled, as Achilles is,) by going to Achilles :
That were to 'enlard his opride, 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.

Neft. O this is well, he rubs the vein of him.
Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applause!

Ajax. If I go to him with my armed fint
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.

Ulys. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax. A paultry insolent fellow
Neft. How he describes himself.
Ajax. Can he not be sociable ?
Ulys. 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 ----
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. He should not. bear it so, he should eat swords first: shall pride carry it?

Neft. An 'would, you'd carry half.
Ulys. He would have ten shares,

Ajax. fat, already, pride.

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Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him fupple, he's not yet through warm.

Neft. Force him with praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

Ulys. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Neft. Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a man ---- but 'tis before his face ---
I will be filent.
Neft. Wherefore should


so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whorson dog! that palters thus with us ----
Would he were a Trojan/

Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now ----
Ulys. If he were proud.
Dio. Or covetous of praise.
Ulys. Ay, or furly born.
Dio. Or strange, or self-affected.

Ulys. 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 wile:



But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temperd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

Ajax. Shall I call you father ?
Ulys. Ay, my good son.
Dio. Be ruld by him, lord Ajax.

Uly). There is no carrying 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,
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 (wift, though greater hulks draw deep.



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Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. [Mufick within

RIEN D! you! pray you a word: do not you

follow the young lord Paris?

Ser. Ay Sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

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

Ser. P Light boats may sail (wift, tho' great bulks draw deep.

Ser. The lord be praised.
Pan. You know me, do you not ?
Ser. Faith, Sir, superficially.
Pan. Friend, know me better, I am the lord Pandarus.
Ser. I hope I Thall know your honour better.
Pan. I do desire it.
Ser. You are in the state of grace?

Pan. Grace? not so, friend: honour and lordship are my titles: What musick is this?

Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is musick in parts.
Pan. Know you the musicians ?
Ser. Wholly, Sir.
Pan. Who play they to?
Ser. To the hearers, Sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?
Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love musick.
Pan. Command, I mean, friend.
Ser. 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?

Ser. That's to’t indeed, Sir; marry, Sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who's there in person; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul.

Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ?

Ser. No Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her attributes ?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cresida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complemental assault upon him, for my business seethes,

Ser. Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase indeed.


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