Sivut kuvina

Enter Ulysses.
Ajax. I do hate a proud Man, as I hate the engendring of

Neft. Yet he loves himself: Is't not strange?
Dhs. Achilles will not to the Field to Morrow.
Aga. What's his Excuse?

Ulys. He doth rely on none ;
But carries on the Stream of his Dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In Will peculiar, and in Self-admission,

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his Person, and share the Air with us?

Ulys. Things small as Nothing, for Requests fake only
He makes Important: Poffest he is with Greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a Pride
That quarrels at Self-breath. Imagin'd Wrath
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 'gainst it self ; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proưd, that the death-tokens of it
Cry no recovery.

Aga. 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.

Vhr. O, Agamemnon, let it not be fo,
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, fave such as do revolve
And ruminate himself? Shall he be worship’d,
Of that we hold an Idol, more than he ?
No, this Thrice Worthy, and Right Valiant Lord,
Must not so ftale his Palm, nobly acquir'd,
Nor by my Will assubjugate his Merit,
As amply Titld, as Achilles is, by going to Achilles.
That were to enlard his Fat, already, Pride,
And add more Coles to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion,
X 4


This Lord go to him?. Jupiter forbid,
And say in Thunder, Achilles go to him.

Net. o this is well, he rubs the Vein of him.
Dio. And how his filence drinks up his Applause.
Ajax. If I go to him

him with

with my armed Fift, I'll pash him o'er the Face.

Aga, o no, you shall not go.

Ajax. And a be proud with me, I'll phese his Pride ; let me go to him.

vlys. Not for the worth that hangs upon our Quarrel,
Ajax. A paultry Insolent Fellow
Neft. How he describes himself.
Ajax. Can he not be sociable?
Ulys. The Raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his Humours Bload.
Aga. He will be the Physician, that should be the patient.
Ajax. And all Men were a my Mind
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. A should not bear it so, a should eat Swords Girst; shall' Pride carry it?

Neft. And 'cwould, you'd carry half.
Vlys. A would have ten shares.

Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet through warm.

Neft. Force him with Praises, pour in, pour in, his Ambition is dry.

Vlyf. My Lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Neft. Our noble General, do not do so.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Vlys. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a Man--but 'tis before his Face....
I will be filent.

Neft. Wherefore should you fo?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know the whole World, he is: as valiant.

Ajax. A whorlon Dog! that shall palter thus with us would he were a Trojan.

Neft. What a Vice were it in Ajax now---
Ulys. If he were proud.
Dio. Or covetous of Praise.
Ulys. Ay, or surly born.


Dio. Or strange, or self-affe&ted.

Vlyf. Thank the Heavens, Lord, thou art of a sweet Com-
Praise him that got thee, fe that gave thee fuck:
Fame be thy Tutor, and thy parts of Nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all Erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy Arms to fight,
Let Mars divide Eternity in twain,
And give him half; and for thy Vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
To Sinewy Ajax: I will not praise thy Wisdom
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a fhore, 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 Neftor, 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?
Vlyf. Ay, my good Son.
Dio. Be ruld by him, Lord Ajax.

Vlf. There is no tarrying here, the Hart Achilles
Keeps thicket; please it our General,
To call together all this State of War;
Fresh Kings are come to Troy ; to Morrow
We must with all our main of Power stand fast :
And here's a Lord (come Knights from East to West,
And cull their Flower) Ajax shall cope the best.

Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles sleep;
Light Boats may fail swift, though great bulks draw deep.

[Excunt. Mufick sounds within.


Enter Pandarus, and a Servant.


the Paris ?
Ser. Ay, Sir, when he goes before me.


you not?

Pan. You depend upon him, I mean?
Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.

Pan. You depend upon a Noble Gentleman: I must needs praise him.

Ser. The Lord be praised.
Pan. You know me, do
Ser. Faith, Sir, superficially.
Pan, Friend, know me better, I am the Lord Pandarus.
Ser. I hope I thall know your Honour better.
Pan, I do desire it.
Ser. You are in the state of Grace?

Pan, Grace, not so, Friend, Honour and Lordship are my Titles: What Musick is this?

Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is Musiçk in parts,
Pan. Know you the Musicians?
Ser. Wholly, Sir.
Pan. Who play they to?
Ser. To the hearers, Sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, Friend?
Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love Musick.
Pan. Command, I mean, Friend.
Ser. Who shall I command, Sir ?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another: I an tog courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these Men play?

Ser. That's to’c indeed, Sir ; marry, Sir, at the request of Paris, my Lord, who's there in Person ; with him the mortal Venus, the Heart-blood of Beauty, Love's invisible Soul,

Pan. Whi, my Cousin Cressida??

Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her Attributes?

Pan. 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 complemental Assault upon him, for my Business seethes. Ser. Sodden Business, there's a stew'd Phrase indeed.

Enter Paris and Helen. Pan. 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. Diar Lord, you are full of fair Words.

Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet Queen: fair Prince, here is good broken Musick.

Par. You have broken it, Cousin; and by my Life you fhall make it whole again, you shall piece it out with a peice of your performance. Nel, he is full of Harmony,

Pan. Truly, Lady, no,
Helen. O, Sir-
Pan. Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
Par. Well said, my Lord; well, you say so in fits.

Pan. I have Bufiness 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 fing certainly.

Pan. 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, hony-sweet Lord,

Pan. Go to, sweet Queen, go to
Commends himself most affe&ionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody:
If you do, our Melancholy upon your Head.

Pan. Sweet Queen, sweet Queer, that's a sweet Queen, l'faith

Helen. And to make a sweet Lady fad, is a lower Offence, Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for such Words, no, no

Pan. And, my Lord, he desires you, that if the King call for him at Supper, you will make his excuse.

Helen. My Lord Pandarusa

Pan. What says my sweet Queen, my yery, very sweet Queen? Par. What Exploit's in hand, where sups he to Night? Helen. Nay, but my Lord. Pan. What says my sweet Queen? my Cousin will fall out Helen. You must not know where he sups. Par. With my disposer Cressida.

Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide, come, your disposer is sick. Rar. Well, I'll make excuse.


with you.

« EdellinenJatka »