Imatges de pàgina
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At your request, a little from himself.

ULYSS. 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,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts,-save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself,-shall he be worshipp'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 fat-already pride;

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."

NEST. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!

AJAX. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I 'll pash him

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AJAX. An a be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride:

Let me go to him.

[Aside.

[Aside.

ULYSS. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.

AJAX. A paltry, insolent fellow!
NEST. How he describes himself!
AJAX. Can he not be sociable?

ULYSS. The raven chides blackness.

AJAX. I'll let his humours blood.

[Aside.

[Aside.

AGAM. He will be the physician, that should be the patient.

[Aside.

AJAX. An all men were o' my mind!

ULYSS. Wit would be out of fashion.

AJAX. A should not bear it so, a should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it?

[Aside.

NEST. An 't would, you 'd carry half.

ULYSS. He would have ten shares.

[Aside. [Aside.

AJAX. I will knead him, I 'll make him supple.

NEST. He's not yet through warm: force him with praises: Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry a.

[Aside.

a All this spirited dialogue has been ruined by Steevens, in his attempt to turn the prose into his halting verse. He had no more idea of rhythm than a savage would have of a half-tint in painting.

ULYSS. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
NEST. Our noble general, do not do so.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
ULYSS. Why, 't is this naming of him does him harm.
Here is a man-But 't is before his face;

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[TO AGAMEMNON.

AJAX. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would he were a

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ULYSS. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure;

Praise him that got thee, she 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 vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

To sinewy Ajax. I will 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 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.

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a Because Nestor was an old man, the modern editors make him reply to the question of Ajax. In Shakspere's time it was the highest compliment to call a man whose wit or learning was reverenced, father. Ben Jonson had thus his sons. The flattery of Ulysses has won the heart of Ajax; Nestor has said nothing.

And here's a lord,-come knights from east to west,

And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.

AGAM. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep;

Light boats may sail swift, though greater bulks draw deep.

[Exeunt.

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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 depend upon him, I mean.

SERV. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

PAN. You 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.

[Music within.

PAN. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles :-What music

is this?

SERV. I do but partly know, sir; it is music 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 music.

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's 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 music.

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.

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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