ACT III. SCENE 1. Troy. PRIAM'S palace  Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT    PANDARUS. Friend, you-pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young     Lord Paris?   SERVANT. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.   PANDARUS. You depend upon him, I mean?   SERVANT. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.   PANDARUS. You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise     him.   SERVANT. The lord be praised!   PANDARUS. You know me, do you not?   SERVANT. Faith, sir, superficially.   PANDARUS. Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus.   SERVANT. I hope I shall know your honour better.   PANDARUS. I do desire it.   SERVANT. You are in the state of grace.   PANDARUS. Grace! Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles.     What music is this?   SERVANT. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.   PANDARUS. Know you the musicians?   SERVANT. Wholly, sir.   PANDARUS. Who play they to?   SERVANT. To the hearers, sir.   PANDARUS. At whose pleasure, friend?   SERVANT. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.   PANDARUS. Command, I mean, friend.   SERVANT. Who shall I command, sir?   PANDARUS. Friend, we understand not one another: I am to courtly,     and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?   SERVANT. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of     Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus,     the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul-   PANDARUS. Who, my cousin, Cressida?   SERVANT. No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her     attributes?   PANDARUS. 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     seethes.   SERVANT. Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed!                Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended    PANDARUS. 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.   PANDARUS. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince,     here is good broken music.   PARIS. 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.   HELEN. He is full of harmony.   PANDARUS. Truly, lady, no.   HELEN. O, sir-   PANDARUS. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.   PARIS. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits.   PANDARUS. 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-   PANDARUS. Well sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry,     thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your     brother Troilus-   HELEN. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord-   PANDARUS. Go to, sweet queen, go to-commends himself most     affectionately to you-   HELEN. You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our     melancholy upon your head!   PANDARUS. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith.   HELEN. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.   PANDARUS. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not,     in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. -And, my     lord, he desires you that, if the King call for him at supper,     you will make his excuse.   HELEN. My Lord Pandarus!   PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?   PARIS. What exploit's in hand? Where sups he to-night?   HELEN. Nay, but, my lord-   PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with     you.   HELEN. You must not know where he sups.   PARIS. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.   PANDARUS. No, no, no such matter; you are wide. Come, your disposer     is sick.   PARIS. Well, I'll make's excuse.   PANDARUS. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida?     No, your poor disposer's sick.   PARIS. I spy.   PANDARUS. You spy! What do you spy?-Come, give me an instrument.     Now, sweet queen.   HELEN. Why, this is kindly done.   PANDARUS. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet     queen.   HELEN. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my Lord Paris.   PANDARUS. He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain.   HELEN. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.   PANDARUS. Come, come. I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a     song now.   HELEN. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a     fine forehead.   PANDARUS. Ay, you may, you may.   HELEN. Let thy song be love. This love will undo us all. O Cupid,     Cupid, Cupid!   PANDARUS. Love! Ay, that it shall, i' faith.   PARIS. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.   PANDARUS. In good troth, it begins so.                      [Sings]      Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!            For, oh, love's bow            Shoots buck and doe;            The shaft confounds            Not that it wounds,     But tickles still the sore.     These lovers cry, O ho, they die!        Yet that which seems the wound to kill     Doth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he!        So dying love lives still.     O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha!     O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey ho!    HELEN. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose.   PARIS. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood,     and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot     deeds, and hot deeds is love.   PANDARUS. Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts,     and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of     vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field today?   PARIS. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry     of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would not     have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?   HELEN. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus.   PANDARUS. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spend     to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?   PARIS. To a hair.   PANDARUS. Farewell, sweet queen.   HELEN. Commend me to your niece.   PANDARUS. I will, sweet queen.                Exit. Sound a retreat   PARIS. They're come from the field. Let us to Priam's hall     To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you     To help unarm our Hector. His stubborn buckles,     With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,     Shall more obey than to the edge of steel     Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more     Than all the island kings-disarm great Hector.   HELEN. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris;     Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty     Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,     Yea, overshines ourself.   PARIS. Sweet, above thought I love thee.                     Exeunt     ACT III. SCENE 2. Troy. PANDARUS' orchard  Enter PANDARUS and TROILUS' BOY, meeting    PANDARUS. How now! Where's thy master? At my cousin Cressida's?   BOY. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.                        Enter TROILUS    PANDARUS. O, here he comes. How now, how now!   TROILUS. Sirrah, walk off.                                 Exit Boy   PANDARUS. Have you seen my cousin?   TROILUS. No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door     Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks     Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,     And give me swift transportance to these fields     Where I may wallow in the lily beds     Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar,     From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,     And fly with me to Cressid!   PANDARUS. Walk here i' th' orchard, I'll bring her straight.       Exit   TROILUS. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.     Th' imaginary relish is so sweet     That it enchants my sense; what will it be     When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed     Love's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me;     Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,     Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,     For the capacity of my ruder powers.     I fear it much; and I do fear besides     That I shall lose distinction in my joys;     As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps     The enemy flying.                       Re-enter PANDARUS    PANDARUS. She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must be     witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as     if she were fray'd with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is the     prettiest villain; she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en     sparrow.                                                     Exit   TROILUS. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom.     My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse,     And all my powers do their bestowing lose,     Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring     The eye of majesty.                Re-enter PANDARUS With CRESSIDA    PANDARUS. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby.-Here she     is now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me.-     What, are you gone again? You must be watch'd ere you be made     tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw     backward, we'll put you i' th' fills.-Why do you not speak to     her?-Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture.     Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! An 'twere     dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress     How now, a kiss in fee-farm! Build there, carpenter; the air is     sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The     falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' th' river. Go to, go     to.   TROILUS. You have bereft me of all words, lady.   PANDARUS. Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she'll bereave     you o' th' deeds too, if she call your activity in question.     What, billing again? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties     interchangeably.' Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire.       Exit   CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?   TROILUS. O Cressid, how often have I wish'd me thus!   CRESSIDA. Wish'd, my lord! The gods grant-O my lord!   TROILUS. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption?     What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our     love?   CRESSIDA. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.   TROILUS. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.   CRESSIDA. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing     than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft     cures the worse.   TROILUS. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageant     there is presented no monster.   CRESSIDA. Nor nothing monstrous neither?   TROILUS. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas,     live in fire, cat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our     mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any     difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that     the will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire     is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.   CRESSIDA. They say all lovers swear more performance than they are     able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing     more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the     tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act     of hares, are they not monsters?   TROILUS. Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we are     tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit     crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in     present. We will not name desert before his birth; and, being     born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith:     Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall     be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest not     truer than Troilus.   CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?                      Re-enter PANDARUS    PANDARUS. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?   CRESSIDA. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.   PANDARUS. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll     give him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, chide me for it.   TROILUS. You know now your hostages: your uncle's word and my firm     faith.   PANDARUS. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, though     they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won;     they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they are     thrown.   CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart.     Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day     For many weary months.   TROILUS. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?   CRESSIDA. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord,     With the first glance that ever-pardon me.     If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.     I love you now; but till now not so much     But I might master it. In faith, I lie;     My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown     Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools!     Why have I blabb'd? Who shall be true to us,     When we are so unsecret to ourselves?     But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;     And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,     Or that we women had men's privilege     Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,     For in this rapture I shall surely speak     The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,     Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws     My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth.   TROILUS. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.   PANDARUS. Pretty, i' faith.   CRESSIDA. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;     'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.     I am asham'd. O heavens! what have I done?     For this time will I take my leave, my lord.   TROILUS. Your leave, sweet Cressid!   PANDARUS. Leave! An you take leave till to-morrow morning-   CRESSIDA. Pray you, content you.   TROILUS. What offends you, lady?   CRESSIDA. Sir, mine own company.   TROILUS. You cannot shun yourself.   CRESSIDA. Let me go and try.     I have a kind of self resides with you;     But an unkind self, that itself will leave     To be another's fool. I would be gone.     Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.   TROILUS. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.   CRESSIDA. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love;     And fell so roundly to a large confession     To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise-     Or else you love not; for to be wise and love     Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.   TROILUS. O that I thought it could be in a woman-     As, if it can, I will presume in you-     To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love;     To keep her constancy in plight and youth,     Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind     That doth renew swifter than blood decays!     Or that persuasion could but thus convince me     That my integrity and truth to you     Might be affronted with the match and weight     Of such a winnowed purity in love.     How were I then uplifted! but, alas,     I am as true as truth's simplicity,     And simpler than the infancy of truth.   CRESSIDA. In that I'll war with you.   TROILUS. O virtuous fight,     When right with right wars who shall be most right!     True swains in love shall in the world to come     Approve their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes,     Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,     Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration-     As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,     As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,     As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre-     Yet, after all comparisons of truth,     As truth's authentic author to be cited,     'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse     And sanctify the numbers.   CRESSIDA. Prophet may you be!     If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,     When time is old and hath forgot itself,     When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,     And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,     And mighty states characterless are grated     To dusty nothing-yet let memory     From false to false, among false maids in love,     Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As false     As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,     As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf,     Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son'-     Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,     'As false as Cressid.'   PANDARUS. Go to, a bargain made; seal it, seal it; I'll be the     witness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's. If ever you     prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to     bring you together, let all pitiful goers- between be call'd to     the world's end after my name-call them all Pandars; let all     constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all     brokers between Pandars. Say 'Amen.'   TROILUS. Amen.   CRESSIDA. Amen.   PANDARUS. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber     and a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your     pretty encounters, press it to death. Away!     And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,     Bed, chamber, pander, to provide this gear!                Exeunt     ACT III. SCENE 3. The Greek camp  Flourish. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS    CALCHAS. Now, Princes, for the service I have done,     Th' 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 come,     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, sequest'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 regist'red in promise,     Which you say live to come in my behalf.   AGAMEMNON. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand.   CALCHAS. You have a Troyan prisoner call'd Antenor,     Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear.     Oft have you-often have you thanks therefore-     Desir'd 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             ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent    ULYSSES. Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent.     Please it our general 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. 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 us'd to bend,     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 of late?     '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 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, and 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,     Doth 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 anything,     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 formed in th' applause     Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate     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     Th' 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 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-siz'd 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 mock'ry. 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 ent'red 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 th' hand;     And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,     Grasps in the corner. The 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 stirs not. 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 th' uncomprehensive deeps;     Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,     Do 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 island 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 mov'd you.     A woman impudent and mannish grown     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 airy 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 gor'd.   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 they sit idly in the sun.   ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.     I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him     T' invite the Troyan 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 sav'd!   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, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a stride and a     stand; ruminaies 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' th' combat,     he'll break't 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's grown a very land     fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may     wear it on both sides, like 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 his 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 unarm'd to my     tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the     magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd     Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. 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 you say to't?   THERSITES. God buy you, with all my heart.   PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.   THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clock it     will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he     has me.   PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.   THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart.   ACHILLES. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?   THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be in him     when Hector has knock'd 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 carry 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