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But carries on the stream of his dispose, |
Without observance or respect of any, |
In will peculiar and in self-admission. |
AGAMEMNON. Why will he not, upon our fair request, |
Untent his person and share the air with us? |
ULYSSES. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, |
He makes important; possess'd he is with greatness, |
And speaks not to himself but with a pride |
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth |
Holds in his blood such swol'n and hot discourse |
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts |
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, |
And batters down himself. What should I say? |
He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it |
Cry 'No recovery.' |
AGAMEMNON. Let Ajax go to him. |
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent. |
'Tis said he holds you well; and will be led |
At your request a little from himself. |
ULYSSES. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! |
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes |
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord |
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam |
And never suffers matter of the world |
Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve |
And ruminate himself-shall he be worshipp'd |
Of that we hold an idol more than he? |
No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord |
Shall not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd, |
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, |
As amply titled as Achilles is, |
By going to Achilles. |
That were to enlard his fat-already pride, |
And add more coals to Cancer when he burns |
With entertaining great Hyperion. |
This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, |
And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.' |
NESTOR. [Aside] O, this is well! He rubs the vein of him. |
DIOMEDES. [Aside] And how his silence drinks up this applause! |
AJAX. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the |
face. |
AGAMEMNON. O, no, you shall not go. |
AJAX. An 'a be proud with me I'll pheeze his pride. |
Let me go to him. |
ULYSSES. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. |
AJAX. A paltry, insolent fellow! |
NESTOR. [Aside] How he describes himself! |
AJAX. Can he not be sociable? |
ULYSSES. [Aside] The raven chides blackness. |
AJAX. I'll let his humours blood. |
AGAMEMNON. [Aside] He will be the physician that should be the |
patient. |
AJAX. An all men were a my mind- |
ULYSSES. [Aside] Wit would be out of fashion. |
AJAX. 'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat's words first. |
Shall pride carry it? |
NESTOR. [Aside] An 'twould, you'd carry half. |
ULYSSES. [Aside] 'A would have ten shares. |
AJAX. I will knead him, I'll make him supple. |
NESTOR. [Aside] He's not yet through warm. Force him with praises; |
pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. |
ULYSSES. [To AGAMEMNON] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. |
NESTOR. Our noble general, do not do so. |
DIOMEDES. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. |
ULYSSES. Why 'tis this naming of him does him harm. |
Here is a man-but 'tis before his face; |
I will be silent. |
NESTOR. Wherefore should you so? |
He is not emulous, as Achilles is. |
ULYSSES. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. |
AJAX. A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us thus! |
Would he were a Troyan! |
NESTOR. What a vice were it in Ajax now- |
ULYSSES. If he were proud. |
DIOMEDES. Or covetous of praise. |
ULYSSES. Ay, or surly borne. |
DIOMEDES. Or strange, or self-affected. |
ULYSSES. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure |
Praise him that gat thee, she that gave thee suck; |
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature |
Thrice-fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition; |
But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight- |
Let Mars divide eternity in twain |
And give him half; and, for thy vigour, |
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield |
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, |
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines |
Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor, |
Instructed by the antiquary times- |
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; |
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days |
As green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd, |
You should not have the eminence of him, |
But be as Ajax. |
AJAX. Shall I call you father? |
NESTOR. Ay, my good son. |
DIOMEDES. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax. |
ULYSSES. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles |
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general |
To call together all his state of war; |
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