I'll interrupt his reading.-How now, Ulysses?

[ed,

Ulyss. Now great Thetis' son? Achil. What are you reading? Ulyss. A strange fellow here Writes me, That man-how dearly ever partHow much in having, or without, or in,Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver.

Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne here in the face The bearer knows not, but commends itself (That most pure spirit of sense,) behold itself, To others' eyes: nor doth the eye 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 ai all.

Ulyss. I do not strain at the position, It is familiar; but at the author's drift: Who, in his circumstance,+ expressly provesThat no man is the lord of any thing,

(Though in and of him there be much conTill he communicate his parts to others: sisting,)

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, reverberates

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 horse; That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are,

Most abject in regard, and dear in use!
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-
morrow,

An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
O heavens, what some men
Ajax renown'd.
While some men leave to do!
[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!
To see these Grecian lords!-why, even al-
ready

They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder; As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast, And great Troy shrinking.

Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me, misers do by beggars: neither gave to me Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot?

Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, [back, 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
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail [way
hang
In monumental mockery. Take the instant

For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the
For emulation hath a thousand sons, [path;
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,
[yours:
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the
hand;

[fly, And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would 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. [kin,-
One touch of nature makes the whole world
That all, with one consent, praise new-born
gawds,*
[past;
Though they are made and moulded of things
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on
thee,

And still it might; and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent; [late,
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of
Made emulous missionst 'mongst the gods
themselves,

And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil. Of this my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Ulyss. But 'gainst your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical: "Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.

Achil. Ha! known?

Ulyss. Is that a wonder?

The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the
gods,

Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to :
All the commerce that you have had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her
trump;

And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,-
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewell, my lord: I as your lovers speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should
break.
[Exit.

Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd
A woman impudent and mannish grown [you
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton
Cupid

Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air,

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much hon-
our by him.

Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake; My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

Patr. O, then beware;

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give them-
Omission to do what is necessary [selves :
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patro-
clus:

I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's
An appetite that I am sick withal, [longing,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd!
Enter THERS!tes.

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say-there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vainglory. He knows not me: I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. 1 will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.

Ther. Humph!

Pour answer, Sir.

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings* on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capablet creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;

And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-Troy.—A Street. Enter, at one side, ÆNEAS and SERVANT, with a Torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, with torches. Par. See, ho! who's that there? Dei. 'Tis the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in person?Had I so good occasion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business

Should rob my bed-mate of my company. Dio. That's my mind too.--Good morrow, lord Æneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand: Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field.

Ene. Health to you, valiant Sir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health:

But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly [ness, With his face backward.-In humane gentleWelcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, No man alive can love, in such a sort, The thing he means to kill more excellently. Dio. We sympathize:-Jove, let Æneas live, f to my sword his fate be not the glory, * Lute-strings made of catgut. I Conversation.

+ Intelligent.

Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other

worse.

Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greet

ing,

The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.What business, lord, so early?

Ene. was sent for to the king; but why. I know not.

Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring this Greek

To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the entreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain know-
ledge,)

My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore: I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene. That I assure you;

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Than Cressid borne from Troy.

Par. There is no help; The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. Ene. Good morrow, all. [Exit.

Pur. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish foins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor

For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight, [speak,
A Trojan hath been slain; since she could
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojan's suffer'd death.

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well,-
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.-Court before the
House of PANDARUS.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn 13 cold.

Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He shall unbolt the gates. Tro. Trouble him not;

To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants' empty of all thought!

Cres. Good morrow then.

Tro. 'Pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cres. Are you aweary of me?

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald

crows,

And dreaming night will hide our joys no longI would not from thee.

[er,

Cres. Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays, [love, As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of With wings more momentary-swift than You will catch cold, and curse me. [thought. Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry ;— You men will never tarry.

O foolish Cressid!-I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.

Pan. [Within.] What, are all the doors open

here?

Tr. It is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS.

I'll be sworn:-For my own part, I came in What should he do here?

[late: ['ware:

Ene. Who!-nay, then :-
Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him:
Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hi-
Go.
[ther;

As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.
Tro. How now? what's the matter?
Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to sa-
lute you,

My matter is so rash :* There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Tro. Is it so concluded?

Ene. By Priam, and the general state of
Troy :

They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I shall have such a life,

Pan. How now, how now? how go maidenheads?-Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

[too. You bring me to do, and then you flout me Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: what have I brought you to do? Cres. Come, come; beshrew‡ your heart! you'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

[Exeunt TROILUS and NEAS. Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor, I would, they had broke's neck!

Enter CRESSIDA.

Cres. How now? What is the matter? Who was here?

Pan. Ah, ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord gone?

Tell

me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

Cres. O the gods !-what's the matter? Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou had'st ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death:-O poor gentleman!-A plague upon Antenor!

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and begone from Troilus; 'twill be his death'; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cres. O you immortal gods!-I will not go. Pan. Thou must.

hood,

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my faI know no touch of consanguinity; [ther; No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me As the sweet Troilus.-() you gods divine! Make Cressid's name the very crown of false[death, Do to this body what extremes you can; If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, [weep; Drawing all things to it.-I'll go in, and Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, [hear Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break iny With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt

House.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah sweet ducks!

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him. Pun. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart,-as the goodly saying is,

-O heart, O heavy heart,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By friendship, nor by speaking.

There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,

That the bless'd gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from

Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:

As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to
He fumbles up into a loose adieu; [them,
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of brokent tears.
Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the
Genius so

Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.-
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pun. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this
wind, or my heart will be blown up by the
root!
[Exit PANDARUS.
Cres. I must then to the Greeks?
Tro. No remedy.

Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry When shall we see again? [Greeks! Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of

heart,

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem

is this?

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us:

I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,
That there's no maculations in thy heart:
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers

As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.
Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger.

Wear this sleeve.

Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you?

Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.

Cres. O heavens !-be true again?
Tro. Hear why I speak it, love;
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of
nature flowing,

And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy

(Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,)
Makes me afeard.

Cres. O heavens! you love me not.
Tro. Die I a villain then!

In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt,** nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and
pregnant:

But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempt-

But something may be done, that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,-
Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part.
Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!