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twg_000000027400 | countenance! Ist not a brave man? CRESSIDA. O, a brave man! PANDARUS. Is a not? It does a mans heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet! Look you yonder, do you see? Look you there. Theres no jesting; theres laying on; taket off who will, as they say. There be hacks. CRESSIDA. Be those with swords? PANDARUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027401 | Swords! anything, he cares not; and the devil come to him, its all one. By Gods lid, it does ones heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. [Paris _passes_.] Look ye yonder, niece; ist not a gallant man too, ist not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home today? Hes not hurt. Why, this will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027402 | do Helens heart good now, ha! Would I could see Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon. [Helenus _passes_.] CRESSIDA. Whos that? PANDARUS. Thats Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. Thats Helenus. I think he went not forth today. Thats Helenus. CRESSIDA. Can Helenus fight, uncle? PANDARUS. Helenus! no. Yes, hell fight indifferent well. I marvel where Troilus is. Hark! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027403 | do you not hear the people cry Troilus?Helenus is a priest. CRESSIDA. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? [Troilus _passes_.] PANDARUS. Where? yonder? Thats Deiphobus. Tis Troilus. Theres a man, niece. Hem! Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry! CRESSIDA. Peace, for shame, peace! PANDARUS. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027404 | is bloodied, and his helm more hackd than Hectors; and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he never saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way. Had I a sister were a grace or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027405 | I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot. CRESSIDA. Here comes more. [_Common soldiers pass_.] PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus. Neer look, neer look; the eagles are gone. Crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027406 | a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece. CRESSIDA. There is amongst the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus. PANDARUS. Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel! CRESSIDA. Well, well. PANDARUS. Well, well! Why, have you any discretion? Have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027407 | learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? CRESSIDA. Ay, a mincd man; and then to be bakd with no date in the pie, for then the mans date is out. PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man knows not at what ward you lie. CRESSIDA. Upon my back, to defend | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027408 | my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand watches. PANDARUS. Say one of your watches. CRESSIDA. Nay, Ill watch you for that; and thats one of the chiefest of them | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027409 | too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then its past watching. PANDARUS. You are such another! Enter Troilus' Boy. BOY. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. PANDARUS. Where? BOY. At your own house; there he unarms him. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027410 | PANDARUS. Good boy, tell him I come. [_Exit_ Boy.] I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. CRESSIDA. Adieu, uncle. PANDARUS. I will be with you, niece, by and by. CRESSIDA. To bring, uncle. PANDARUS. Ay, a token from Troilus. [_Exit_ Pandarus.] CRESSIDA. By the same token, you are a bawd. Words, vows, gifts, tears, and loves full | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027411 | sacrifice, He offers in anothers enterprise; But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandars praise may be, Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done; joys soul lies in the doing. That she belovd knows naught that knows not this: Men prize the thing ungaind more than it is. That she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027412 | was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue; Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: Achievement is command; ungaind, beseech. Then though my hearts content firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [_Exit_.] SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnons tent. Sennet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Diomedes, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027413 | Menelaus and others. AGAMEMNON. Princes, What grief hath set these jaundies oer your cheeks? The ample proposition that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below Fails in the promisd largeness; checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest reard, As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grain Tortive | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027414 | and errant from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us That we come short of our suppose so far That after seven years siege yet Troy walls stand; Sith every action that hath gone before, Whereof we have record, trial did draw Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, And that unbodied figure of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027415 | thought That gavet surmised shape. Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abashd behold our works And call them shames, which are, indeed, naught else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men; The fineness of which metal is not found In fortunes love? For then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027416 | the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affind and kin. But in the wind and tempest of her frown Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away; And what hath mass or matter by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. NESTOR. With due observance of thy godlike seat, Great Agamemnon, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027417 | Nestor shall apply Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth, How many shallow bauble boats dare sail Upon her patient breast, making their way With those of nobler bulk! But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon behold The strong-ribbd bark through liquid mountains cut, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027418 | Bounding between the two moist elements Like Perseus horse. Wheres then the saucy boat, Whose weak untimberd sides but even now Co-rivalld greatness? Either to harbour fled Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so Doth valours show and valours worth divide In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027419 | Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, And flies fled under shadewhy, then the thing of courage, As rousd with rage, with rage doth sympathise, And with an accent tund in self-same key Retorts to chiding fortune. ULYSSES. Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, Heart of our numbers, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027420 | soul and only spirit In whom the tempers and the minds of all Should be shut uphear what Ulysses speaks. Besides thapplause and approbation The which, [_To Agamemnon_] most mighty, for thy place and sway, [_To Nestor_] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretchd-out life, I give to both your speecheswhich were such As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027421 | Should hold up high in brass; and such again As venerable Nestor, hatchd in silver, Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears To his experiencd tongueyet let it please both, Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. AGAMEMNON. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and bet of less expect | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027422 | That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips than we are confident, When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. ULYSSES. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hectors sword had lackd a master, But for these instances: The specialty of rule hath been neglected; And look how many | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027423 | Grecian tents do stand Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, Thunworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027424 | Office, and custom, in all line of order; And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthrond and spherd Amidst the other, whose medcinable eye Corrects the influence of evil planets, And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027425 | what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate, The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture! O, when degree is shakd, Which is the ladder of all high designs, The enterprise is sick! How could communities, Degrees in schools, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027426 | brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenity and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And hark what discord follows! Each thing melts In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027427 | of all this solid globe; Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead; Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong Between whose endless jar justice resides Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then everything includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, an universal | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027428 | wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an universal prey, And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, This chaos, when degree is suffocate, Follows the choking. And this neglection of degree it is That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose It hath to climb. The generals disdaind By him one step below, he by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027429 | the next, That next by him beneath; so every step, Exampld by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation. And tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. NESTOR. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027430 | Most wisely hath Ulysses here discoverd The fever whereof all our power is sick. AGAMEMNON. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy? ULYSSES. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host, Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027431 | our designs; with him Patroclus Upon a lazy bed the livelong day Breaks scurril jests; And with ridiculous and awkward action Which, slanderer, he imitation calls He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, Thy topless deputation he puts on; And like a strutting player whose conceit Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich To hear the wooden dialogue and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027432 | sound Twixt his stretchd footing and the scaffoldage Such to-be-pitied and oer-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquard, Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon droppd, Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff The large Achilles, on his pressd bed lolling, From his deep chest laughs out a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027433 | loud applause; Cries Excellent! Tis Agamemnon right! Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, As he being drest to some oration. Thats doneas near as the extremest ends Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife; Yet god Achilles still cries Excellent! Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, Arming to answer in a night alarm. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027434 | And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age Must be the scene of mirth: to cough and spit And, with a palsy fumbling on his gorget, Shake in and out the rivet. And at this sport Sir Valour dies; cries O, enough, Patroclus; Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all In pleasure of my spleen. And in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027435 | this fashion All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, Excitements to the field or speech for truce, Success or loss, what is or is not, serves As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. NESTOR. And in the imitation of these twain Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027436 | voicemany are infect. Ajax is grown self-willd and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, To match us in comparisons with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027437 | dirt, To weaken and discredit our exposure, How rank soever rounded in with danger. ULYSSES. They tax our policy and call it cowardice, Count wisdom as no member of the war, Forestall prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand. The still and mental parts That do contrive how many hands shall strike When fitness calls them on, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027438 | know, by measure Of their observant toil, the enemies weight Why, this hath not a fingers dignity: They call this bed-work, mappry, closet-war; So that the ram that batters down the wall, For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise, They place before his hand that made the engine, Or those that with the fineness of their souls By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027439 | reason guide his execution. NESTOR. Let this be granted, and Achilles horse Makes many Thetis sons. [_Tucket_.] AGAMEMNON. What trumpet? Look, Menelaus. MENELAUS. From Troy. Enter Aeneas. AGAMEMNON. What would you fore our tent? AENEAS. Is this great Agamemnons tent, I pray you? AGAMEMNON. Even this. AENEAS. May one that is a herald and a prince Do a fair message | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027440 | to his kingly eyes? AGAMEMNON. With surety stronger than Achilles arm Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general. AENEAS. Fair leave and large security. How may A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals? AGAMEMNON. How? AENEAS. Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027441 | the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus. Which is that god in office, guiding men? Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? AGAMEMNON. This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers. AENEAS. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarmd, As bending angels; thats their fame in peace. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027442 | But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Joves accord, Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas, Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips. The worthiness of praise distains his worth, If that the praisd himself bring the praise forth; But what the repining enemy commends, That breath fame blows; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027443 | that praise, sole pure, transcends. AGAMEMNON. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas? AENEAS. Ay, Greek, that is my name. AGAMEMNON. Whats your affairs, I pray you? AENEAS. Sir, pardon; tis for Agamemnons ears. AGAMEMNON He hears naught privately that comes from Troy. AENEAS. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him; I bring a trumpet to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027444 | awake his ear, To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak. AGAMEMNON. Speak frankly as the wind; It is not Agamemnons sleeping hour. That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, He tells thee so himself. AENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud, Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; And every Greek of mettle, let him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027445 | know What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. [_Sound trumpet_.] We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy A prince called HectorPriam is his father Who in this dull and long-continued truce Is resty grown; he bade me take a trumpet And to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords! If there be one among the fairst of Greece That holds | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027446 | his honour higher than his ease, That feeds his praise more than he fears his peril, That knows his valour and knows not his fear, That loves his mistress more than in confession With truant vows to her own lips he loves, And dare avow her beauty and her worth In other arms than hersto him this challenge. Hector, in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027447 | view of Trojans and of Greeks, Shall make it good or do his best to do it: He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer, Than ever Greek did couple in his arms; And will tomorrow with his trumpet call Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy To rouse a Grecian that is true in love. If any come, Hector | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027448 | shall honour him; If none, hell say in Troy, when he retires, The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth The splinter of a lance. Even so much. AGAMEMNON. This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. If none of them have soul in such a kind, We left them all at home. But we are soldiers; And may that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027449 | soldier a mere recreant prove That means not, hath not, or is not in love. If then one is, or hath, or means to be, That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. NESTOR. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hectors grandsire suckd. He is old now; But if there be not in our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027450 | Grecian host A noble man that hath one spark of fire To answer for his love, tell him from me Ill hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vambrace put this witherd brawns, And meeting him, will tell him that my lady Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste As may be in the world. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027451 | His youth in flood, Ill prove this troth with my three drops of blood. AENEAS. Now heavens forfend such scarcity of youth! ULYSSES. Amen. AGAMEMNON. Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand; To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. Achilles shall have word of this intent; So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent. Yourself shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027452 | feast with us before you go, And find the welcome of a noble foe. [_Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor_.] ULYSSES. Nestor! NESTOR. What says Ulysses? ULYSSES. I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. NESTOR. What ist? ULYSSES. This tis: Blunt wedges rive hard knots. The seeded pride That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027453 | hath to this maturity blown up In rank Achilles must or now be croppd Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil To overbulk us all. NESTOR. Well, and how? ULYSSES. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles. NESTOR. True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027454 | Whose grossness little characters sum up; And, in the publication, make no strain But that Achilles, were his brain as barren As banks of Libyathough, Apollo knows, Tis dry enoughwill with great speed of judgement, Ay, with celerity, find Hectors purpose Pointing on him. ULYSSES. And wake him to the answer, think you? NESTOR. Why, tis most meet. Who may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027455 | you else oppose That can from Hector bring those honours off, If not Achilles? Though t be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells For here the Trojans taste our dearst repute With their finst palate; and trust to me, Ulysses, Our imputation shall be oddly poisd In this vile action; for the success, Although particular, shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027456 | give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large. It is supposd He that meets Hector issues from our choice; And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027457 | election, and doth boil, As twere from forth us all, a man distilld Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence a conquering part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertaind, limbs are his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs. ULYSSES. Give pardon to my speech. Therefore | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027458 | tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, First show foul wares, and think perchance theyll sell; If not, the lustre of the better shall exceed By showing the worse first. Do not consent That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are doggd with two strange followers. NESTOR. I see | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027459 | them not with my old eyes. What are they? ULYSSES. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share with him; But he already is too insolent; And it were better parch in Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foild, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027460 | Why, then we do our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a lottry; And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves Give him allowance for the better man; For that will physic the great Myrmidon, Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall His crest, that prouder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027461 | than blue Iris bends. If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, Well dress him up in voices; if he fail, Yet go we under our opinion still That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Our projects life this shape of sense assumes Ajax employd plucks down Achilles plumes. NESTOR. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027462 | And I will give a taste thereof forthwith To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone Must tarre the mastiffs on, as twere their bone. [_Exeunt_.] ACT II SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Enter Ajax and Thersites. AJAX. Thersites! THERSITES. Agamemnonhow if he had boils, full, all over, generally? AJAX. Thersites! THERSITES. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027463 | those boils did runsay so. Did not the general run then? Were not that a botchy core? AJAX. Dog! THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him; I see none now. AJAX. Thou bitch-wolfs son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then. [_Strikes him_.] THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! AJAX. Speak, then, thou unsalted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027464 | leaven, speak. I will beat thee into handsomeness. THERSITES. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain o thy jades tricks! AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027465 | sense, thou strikest me thus? AJAX. The proclamation! THERSITES. Thou art proclaimd fool, I think. AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch. THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027466 | slow as another. AJAX. I say, the proclamation. THERSITES. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpinas beautyay, that thou barkst at him. AJAX. Mistress Thersites! THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him. AJAX. Cobloaf! THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027467 | sailor breaks a biscuit. AJAX. You whoreson cur! [_Strikes him_.] THERSITES. Do, do. AJAX. Thou stool for a witch! THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an asinico may tutor thee. You scurvy valiant ass! Thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and sold among | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027468 | those of any wit like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou! AJAX. You dog! THERSITES. You scurvy lord! AJAX. You cur! [_Strikes him_.] THERSITES. Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. Enter Achilles and Patroclus. ACHILLES. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027469 | Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do ye thus? How now, Thersites! Whats the matter, man? THERSITES. You see him there, do you? ACHILLES. Ay; whats the matter? THERSITES. Nay, look upon him. ACHILLES. So I do. Whats the matter? THERSITES. Nay, but regard him well. ACHILLES. Well! why, so I do. THERSITES. But yet you look not well upon him; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027470 | for whosomever you take him to be, he is Ajax. ACHILLES. I know that, fool. THERSITES. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. AJAX. Therefore I beat thee. THERSITES. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! His evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbd his brain more than he has beat my bones. I will buy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027471 | nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, AchillesAjax, who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his headIll tell you what I say of him. ACHILLES. What? THERSITES. I say this Ajax [_Ajax offers to strike him_.] ACHILLES. Nay, good Ajax. THERSITES. Has not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027472 | so much wit ACHILLES. Nay, I must hold you. THERSITES. As will stop the eye of Helens needle, for whom he comes to fight. ACHILLES. Peace, fool. THERSITES. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not he there; that he; look you there. AJAX. O thou damned cur! I shall ACHILLES. Will you set your wit to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027473 | a fools? THERSITES. No, I warrant you, the fools will shame it. PATROCLUS. Good words, Thersites. ACHILLES. Whats the quarrel? AJAX. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. THERSITES. I serve thee not. AJAX. Well, go to, go to. THERSITES. I serve here voluntary. ACHILLES. Your last service was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027474 | suffrance; twas not voluntary. No man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. THERSITES. Een so; a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch and knock out either of your brains: a were as good crack a fusty nut | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027475 | with no kernel. ACHILLES. What, with me too, Thersites? THERSITES. Theres Ulysses and old Nestorwhose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toesyoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars. ACHILLES. What, what? THERSITES. Yes, good sooth. To Achilles, to Ajax, to AJAX. I shall cut out your tongue. THERSITES. Tis no matter; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027476 | I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. PATROCLUS. No more words, Thersites; peace! THERSITES. I will hold my peace when Achilles brach bids me, shall I? ACHILLES. Theres for you, Patroclus. THERSITES. I will see you hangd like clotpoles ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027477 | of fools. [_Exit_.] PATROCLUS. A good riddance. ACHILLES. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimd through all our host, That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, Will with a trumpet twixt our tents and Troy, Tomorrow morning, call some knight to arms That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare Maintain I know not what; tis trash. Farewell. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027478 | AJAX. Farewell. Who shall answer him? ACHILLES. I know not; tis put to lottry, otherwise, He knew his man. AJAX. O, meaning you? I will go learn more of it. [_Exeunt_.] SCENE II. Troy. Priams palace. Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus. PRIAM. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: Deliver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027479 | Helen, and all damage else As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumd In hot digestion of this cormorant war Shall be struck off. Hector, what say you tot? HECTOR. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, As far as toucheth my particular, Yet, dread Priam, There is no lady | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027480 | of more softer bowels, More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, More ready to cry out Who knows what follows? Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is calld The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027481 | was drawn about this question, Every tithe soul mongst many thousand dismes Hath been as dear as HelenI mean, of ours. If we have lost so many tenths of ours To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us, Had it our name, the value of one ten, What merits in that reason which denies The yielding of her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027482 | up? TROILUS. Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, So great as our dread fathers, in a scale Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame! HELENUS. No | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027483 | marvel though you bite so sharp of reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reason, Because your speech hath none that tells him so? TROILUS. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons: You know an enemy intends | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027484 | you harm; You know a sword employd is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm. Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorbd? Nay, if we talk of reason, Lets shut | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027485 | our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammd reason. Reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject. HECTOR. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost the keeping. TROILUS. Whats aught but as tis valued? HECTOR. But value dwells not in particular will: It holds his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027486 | estimate and dignity As well wherein tis precious of itself As in the prizer. Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god, And the will dotes that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of thaffected merit. TROILUS. I take today a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027487 | will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgement: how may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? There can be no evasion To blench from this and to stand firm by honour. We turn not back the silks upon the merchant When | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027488 | we have soild them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks; Your breath with full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce, And did him service. He touchd the ports desird; And for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027489 | an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollos, and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt. Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl Whose price hath launchd above a thousand ships, And turnd crownd kings to merchants. If youll avouch twas | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027490 | wisdom Paris went As you must needs, for you all cried Go, go If youll confess he brought home worthy prize As you must needs, for you all clappd your hands, And cried Inestimable!why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never Fortune did Beggar the estimation which you prizd Richer than | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027491 | sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stoln what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stoln That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place! CASSANDRA. [_Within_.] Cry, Trojans, cry. PRIAM. What noise, what shriek is this? TROILUS. Tis our mad sister; I do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027492 | know her voice. CASSANDRA. [_Within_.] Cry, Trojans. HECTOR. It is Cassandra. Enter Cassandra, raving. CASSANDRA. Cry, Trojans, cry. Lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. HECTOR. Peace, sister, peace. CASSANDRA. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes A moiety | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027493 | of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry. Practise your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry, A Helen and a woe! Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [_Exit_.] HECTOR. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027494 | our sister work Some touches of remorse? Or is your blood So madly hot, that no discourse of reason, Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, Can qualify the same? TROILUS. Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it; Nor once deject the courage of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027495 | our minds Because Cassandras mad. Her brain-sick raptures Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel Which hath our several honours all engagd To make it gracious. For my private part, I am no more touchd than all Priams sons; And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027496 | maintain. PARIS. Else might the world convince of levity As well my undertakings as your counsels; But I attest the gods, your full consent Gave wings to my propension, and cut off All fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas, can these my single arms? What propugnation is in one mans valour To stand the push and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027497 | enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties, And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should neer retract what he hath done, Nor faint in the pursuit. PRIAM. Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall; So | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027498 | to be valiant is no praise at all. PARIS. Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; But I would have the soil of her fair rape Wipd off in honourable keeping her. What treason were it to the ransackd queen, Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, Now to deliver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000027499 | her possession up On terms of base compulsion! Can it be, That so degenerate a strain as this Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? Theres not the meanest spirit on our party Without a heart to dare or sword to draw When Helen is defended; nor none so noble Whose life were ill bestowd or death unfamd, Where | 60 | gutenberg |
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