1 Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop of all this solid globe: Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead: And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, And this neglection of degree it is, And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Agam. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy? Ulyss. The great Achilles,--whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host,- Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus, Upon a lazy bed the livelong day Breaks scurril jests; And with ridiculous and awkward action (Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,) He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks, That's done;-as near as the extremest ends Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, (A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint,) Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice; They call this-bed-work, mappery, closet-war: Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse What trumpet? look, Menelaus. I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phœbus: How? Which is that god in office, guiding men? Æne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Æneas, That breath fame follows; that praise, sole pure, transcends. Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas? Æne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. (3) Supreme. (4) The galleries of the theatre. (5) Beyond the truth. (6) Unadapted. Agam. What's your affair, I pray you? | Be you my time to bring it to some shape. Æne. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. Nest. What is't? Agam. He hears nought privately, that comes Ulyss. This 'tis : from Trov. Æne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: Blunt wedges rive hard knots: The seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up I bring a trumpet to awake his ear; Agam. Speak frankly1 as the wind; Well, and how? To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak. It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour : That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, He tells thee so himself. Æne. Trumpet, blow loud, Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;- We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas; Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now ; But, if there be not in our Grecian host One noble man, that hath one spark of fire To answer for his love, Tell him from me,I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vantbrace2 put this wither'd brawn; And, meeting him, will tell him, That my lady Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste As may be in the world: His youth in flood, I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. Æne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! Ulyss. Amen. In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. Nest. Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you ? Nest. It is most meet; Whom may you else oppose, For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd, part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech;- Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; what [Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor. Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd, Were he not proud, we all should share with him: But he already is too insolent; And we were better parch in Afric sun, Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, The sort to fight with Hector: Among ourselves,|| / Yet go we under our opinion? still That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Now I begin to relish thy advice; To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other; Pride alone Must tarre3 the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. ACT II. [Exeunt. Ajax. Dog, Ther. Then would come some matter from him; I see none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! Ajax. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o'thy jade's tricks! Ajax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? Ajax. The proclamation, Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. Ajaz. I say, the proclamation, Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him. Ajax. Mistress Thersites! Ther. Thou shouldest strike him. Ther. He would punt thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. Ajax. You whoreson cur! Ther. Do, do. [Beating him. (3) Provoke. (4) Pound. (5) Ass, a cant term for a foolish fellow. How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man? Ther. You see him there, do you? Açhil. Ay; what's the matter? Ther. Nay, look upon him. Achil. So I do; What's the matter? Achil. Well, why I do so. Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, -I'll tell you what I say of him. Achil. What? Ther. I say, this Ajax [Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes. Achil. Nay, good Ajax. Ther. Has not so much wit Achil. Nay, I must hold you. Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. Achil. Peace, fool! Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there; that he; look you there. Ajax. O thou damned cur! I shall-Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it. Patr. Good words, Thersites. Achil. What's the quarrel? Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. Ther. I serve thee not. Ajax. Well, go to, go to. Ther. I serve here voluntary.8 Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. T'her. Even so?-a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; a' were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. Achil. What, with me too, Thersites? Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor,-whose thou afterwards. Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace. Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons: You know, an enemy intends you harm; Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach1 Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds bids me, shall I? Achil. There's for you, Patroclus. Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. [Exit. Patr. A good riddance. Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all That Hector, by the first hour of the sun, Ajax. O, meaning you :-I'll go learn more of it. SCENE II.-Troy. A room in Priam's palace. Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus. A Grecian and his sword, if he do set honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued? Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks; Deliver Helen, and all damage else As honour, loss of time, travel, expense, Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is con- The wife I chose? there can be no evasion sum'd To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour: Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks viands than I, In hot digestion of this cormorant war, Shall be struck of: -Hector, what say you to't? When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder As far as toucheth my particular, yet, Dread Priam, There is no lady of more softer bowels, More ready to cry out-Who knows what follows? Tro. We do not throw in unrespective sieve,s tive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, So great as our dread father, in a scale Of common ounces? will you with counters sum And do a deed that fortune never did, The past-proportion of his infinite? Beggar the estimation which you priz'd And buckle-in a waist most fathomless, With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Richer than sea and land? O theft most base; Pri. What noise? what shriek is this? (1) Bitch, hound. (2) Tenths. (4) Shrink, or fly off. (5) Basket. (6) Priam's sister, Hesione. Tro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well, Cas. [Within.] Cry, Trojans! Hect. It is Cassandra. The world's large spaces cannot parallel. Enter Cassandra, raving. Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both said well: And on the cause and question now in hand Have gloz'd,5-but superficially; not much eyes, Unfit to hear moral philosophy: Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought And I will fill them with prophetic tears. Hect. Peace, sister, peace. The reasons, you allege, do more conduce To the hot passion of distemper'd blood, Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled Than to make up a free determination elders, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. 'Twixt right and wrong; For pleasure and revenge All dues be render'd to their owners; Now Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears; What nearer debt in all humanity, Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen, and a wo: Than wife is to the husband? if this law Of nature be corrupted through affection; If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king,- For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us Were it not glory that we more affected To fight for and maintain! Par. Else might the world convince of levity As well my undertakings, as your counsels: But I attest the gods, your full consent Gave wings to my propension, and cut off All fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas, can these my single arms? What propugnation is in one man's valour, To stand the push and enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties, And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, Nor faint in the pursuit. Pri. Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights: You have the honey still, but these the gall; So to be valiant, is no praise at all. Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself On terms of base compulsion? Can it be, (1) Corrupt, change to a worse state. Than the performance of our heaving spleens, Hect. I am yours, [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Grecran camp. Before Achilles' tent. Enter Thersites. Ther. How now, Thersites? what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! 'would, it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunderdarter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the serpen |