Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended; which, 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 rapt 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 feasting 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.

Achil. 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?
Ulyss. 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: whch 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 fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'errun 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,

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.

O, then beware;

Patr.
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.

Achil. 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. A labour sav'd!
Enter THERSites.
Ther. A wonder!
Achil. What?

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

Achil. How so?

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. Achil. How can that be?

Ther. 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 for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break it 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 is grown a very land fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

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

Achil. 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 magnaniinous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.

What

Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus. music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo gets his sinews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

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

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;

And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES, and PATROCLUS. Ther. '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.

33

Ene. Is the prince there in person?-
Had I so good occasion to lie long,
As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, lord
Æneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Eneas; take his hand:
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told how Diomed, in a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.
Ene.

Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, As heart can think or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.

Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health:
But, when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.-In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We sympathize:-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow!
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.
Par. This is the most despitefull'st gentle greet-
ing,

The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.-
What business, lord, so early?

Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I
know not.

Par. His purpose meets you: 'Twas to bring
this Greek

To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;

Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality whereof; I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

That I assure you;

Ene. Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Than Cressid borne from Troy. Par. The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. Ene. Good morrow, all. Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; faith, tell me

true,

There is no help;

[Erit.

Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen most, Myself, or Menelaus?

Both alike:

Dio. He merits well to have her that doth seek her (Not making any scruple of her soilure) With such a hell of pain, and world of charge; And you as well to keep her, that defend her (Not palating the taste of her dishonour) With such a costly loss of wealth and friends: He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors; Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore?

Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me,

Paris.

Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:

I shall have such a life,

Pan. How now, how now? how go maidenheads? Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: what have I brought you to do?

Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart: you'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!

[Knocking.

Cres. Did not I tell you?-'would he were knock'd o' the head!

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.-
My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such
thing.-
[Knocking.

How earnestly they knock! pray you, come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS, and CRESSIDA. Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter?

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. Good-morrow, lord, good-morrow.

Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth,

I knew you not what news with you so early? Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny

him;

It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know,

I'll be sworn :-For my own part, I came in late: What should he do here?

Ene. Who!-nay then :-Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere y' are 'ware: You'll be so true to him, to be false to him: Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go.

AS PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS. Tro. How now? what's the matter?

Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute

you,

My matter is so rash: There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Tro.
Is it concluded so?
Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy:
They are at hand, and ready to affect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.
Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt TROILUS, and ENEAS. Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broko's neck.

Enter CRESSIDA.

Cres. How now? what's the matter? Who was here?

Pan. Ah, ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord gone?

Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as
I am above!

Cres. O the gods !-what's the matter?

Pan. Prithee, get thee in. 'Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death:-O poor gentleman!—A plague upon Antenor!

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cres. O you immortal gods!—I will not go.
Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;

I know no touch of consanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.—O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and
death,

Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,

Drawing all things to it.—I will go in, and weep;—
Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised

cheeks;

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.

Enter PANDARUS, and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. Cres. Why tell you me of moderation ? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong as that Which causeth it: How can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affection, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief: My love admits no qualifying dross : No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes, a sweet duck! Cres. O Troilus! Troilus!

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart,-as the goodly saying is,

O heart, heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By friendship, nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from

me.

Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Tro. A hateful truth.
Cres.

What, and from Troilus too?
Tro. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cres.

Is't possible?
Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:

We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;

And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready!
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the
Genius so

Cries, "Come!" to him that instantly must die.Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit PANDARUS.

Cres. I must then to the Grecians? Tro. No remedy. Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?

Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of

heart,

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem is

this?

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us:

I speak not," be thou true," as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But, "be thou true," say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear

Cres.

O heavens! you love me not. Tro. Die I a villain then! In this I do not call your faith in question, So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all.

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:

But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cres. Do you think I will?

Tro.

No. But something may be done that we will not: And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency. Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,— Come, kiss, and let us part

Tro.