Act 3, Scene 3: The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent

SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent.

    Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS

CALCHAS

    Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
    The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
    To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind
    That, through the sight I bear in things to love,
    I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
    Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself,
    From certain and possess'd conveniences,
    To doubtful fortunes; sequestering 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 demand.

CALCHAS

    You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
    Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.
    Oft have you--often have you thanks therefore--
    Desired my 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.

AGAMEMNON

    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 on him:
    If so, I have derision medicinable,
    To use between your strangeness and his pride,
    Which his own will shall have desire to drink:
    It may be 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

    The better.

    Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR

ACHILLES

    Good day, good day.

MENELAUS

    How do you? how do you?

    Exit

ACHILLES

    What, does the cuckold scorn me?

AJAX

    How now, Patroclus!

ACHILLES

    Good morrow, Ajax.

AJAX

    Ha?

ACHILLES

    Good morrow.

AJAX

    Ay, and good next day too.

    Exit

ACHILLES

    What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

PATROCLUS

    They pass by strangely: they were used to bend
    To send their smiles before them to Achilles;
    To come as humbly as they used to creep
    To holy altars.

ACHILLES

    What, am I poor of late?
    'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune,
    Must fall out with men too: what the declined is
    He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
    As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
    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!

ULYSSES

    Now, great Thetis' son!

ACHILLES

    What are you reading?

ULYSSES

    A strange fellow here
    Writes me: 'That man, how dearly ever parted,
    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.'

ACHILLES

    This is not strange, Ulysses.
    The beauty that is borne here in the face
    The bearer knows not, but commends itself
    To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself,
    That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
    Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed
    Salutes each other with each other's form;
    For speculation turns not to itself,
    Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd 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're extended; who, 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 wrapt 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--
    Ajax renown'd. O 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!
    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 shrieking.

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 fall'n 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 outstretch'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,
    That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
    Though they are made and moulded of things past,
    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 wouldst not entomb thyself alive
    And case thy reputation in thy tent;
    Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
    Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves
    And drave great Mars to faction.

ACHILLES

    Of this my privacy
    I have strong reasons.

ULYSSES

    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.

ACHILLES

    Ha! known!

ULYSSES

    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 lover speak;
    The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

    Exit

PATROCLUS

    To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
    A woman impudent and mannish grown
    Is not more loathed 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.

ACHILLES

    Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

PATROCLUS

    Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.

ACHILLES

    I see my reputation is at stake
    My fame is shrewdly gored.

PATROCLUS

    O, then, beware;
    Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
    Omission to do what is necessary
    Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
    And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
    Even then when we sit idly in the sun.

ACHILLES

    Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus:
    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 longing,
    An appetite that I am sick withal,
    To see great Hector in his weeds of peace,
    To talk with him and to behold his visage,
    Even to my full of view.

    Enter THERSITES
    A labour saved!

THERSITES

    A wonder!

ACHILLES

    What?

THERSITES

    Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.

ACHILLES

    How so?

THERSITES

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

ACHILLES

    How can that be?

THERSITES

    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 forever; for if Hector break not his
    neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in
    vain-glory. 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's
    grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster.
    A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both
    sides, like a leather jerkin.

ACHILLES

    Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

THERSITES

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

ACHILLES

    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,
    et cetera. Do this.

PATROCLUS

    Jove bless great Ajax!

THERSITES

    Hum!

PATROCLUS

    I come from the worthy Achilles,--

THERSITES

    Ha!

PATROCLUS

    Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,--

THERSITES

    Hum!

PATROCLUS

    And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.

THERSITES

    Agamemnon!

PATROCLUS

    Ay, my lord.

THERSITES

    Ha!

PATROCLUS

    What say you to't?

THERSITES

    God b' wi' you, with all my heart.

PATROCLUS

    Your answer, sir.

THERSITES

    If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will
    go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me
    ere he has me.

PATROCLUS

    Your answer, sir.

THERSITES

    Fare you well, with all my heart.

ACHILLES

    Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

THERSITES

    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.

ACHILLES

    Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

THERSITES

    Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more
    capable creature.

ACHILLES

    My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
    And I myself see not the bottom of it.

    Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS

THERSITES

    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

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