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Thạt, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes, séquest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to. my nature;
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted;
I do beseech: you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many register'd in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agamemnon. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan?. make
Calchas. You have a Trojan prisoner, call’d Antenor,
Yesterday took; Troy. holds him very dear,
Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore,
Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath:still denied.: . But this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs,
That their negotiations all must slack,
Wanting his manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
In change of him: let him be sent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain. -
Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither;: Calchas shall.have
What he requests of us. -Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange:
Withal, bring word—if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. .
Diomedes. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear.
[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS.
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their Tent.
Ulysses. Achilles stands, i' the 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 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 glass 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 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.
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.
[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR Achilles.
Good day, good day. Menelaus. How do you? how do you?
[Exit MENELAUS. Achilles.
What, does the cuckold scorn me? Ajax. How now, Patroclus? Achilles.
Good morrow, Ajax. Aja..
Ha? Achilles. Good morrow. Ajax.
Ay, and good next day, too.
[Exit AJAX. 4 Like a stranger.
Achilles. What mean these fellows? Know they not
Patroclus. They pass by strangely: they were us’d to
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
'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
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, 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,
Do 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?
Now, great Thetis' son?
Achilles. What are you reading?
A strange fellow here
Writes me, That man—how dearly ever parted,5
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.
5. Excellently endowed.
Achilles. This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is born here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes : nor doth the eye
(That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos’d
Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell’d, and is married 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 circumstance, expressly proves-
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(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 form'd in the applause,
Where they are extended; which, like an arch, rever-
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
The unknown Ajax.
Heavens, what a man is there! a
very That has he knows not what. Nature, what things
Most abject in regard, and dear in use!
What things again, most dear in the esteem,
in worth! now shall we see to-morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renown'd. 0. 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!
6 Detail of argument.
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 pass’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-sized monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps 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 mockery. 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 enter'd tide they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;-
Or, like a gallant horse fallen 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 the hand; And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: 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,