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SCENE III,

The Grecian camp.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor,

Ajax, Menelaus, and Calchas.
Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done

you,
The 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 Jove
I have abandon's Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; séquest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made taine 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 register'd in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agam. What would'st thou of us, Trojan ? make

demand. Cal. You have a Trojan 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 mapage; and they will almost Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,

• An instrument for tuning harps, &c.

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.
Agam.

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:

Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready.

Dio. This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear.

[Ereunt Diomedes and Calchas,

Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their tent,

Ulyss. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his tent:
Please it our general to 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

: lim :
If so, I have derision med'cinable,
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which bis 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 mau's fees.

Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each lord ; aud either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind, l'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught with

us?

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No.

Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the gene

ral ?
Achil.
Nest. Nothing, my lord.
Agam.

The better. [Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. Achil.

Good day, good day. Men. How do you ? how do you?

[Exit Menelaus. Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me? Ajar. How now, Patroclus? Achil.

Good morrow, Ajax. Ajar.

Ha? Achil. Good morrow. Ajar.

Ay, and good next day too.

(Exit Ajax. Achil. What mean these fellows? Kuow they

not Achilles ? Patr. 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.
Achil.

Wbat, am I poor of late ?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen 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, 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,
Do 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?
Ulyss.

Now, great Thetis' son?
Achil. What are you reading ?
Ulyss.

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.
Achil.

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 oppos'd Salutes each other with each other's form. For speculation turns not to itself, Till it hath travellid, and is married there Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.

Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
Who, in his circumstancet, expressly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing
(Though in and of him there be much consisting),
Till he communicate his parts to others :
Nor doth he of hinsself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended; which, like an arch, re-

verberates
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 apprehepded here immediately

• Excellently endowed.

+ Detail of argument.

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,
While 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.

Achil. I do believe it: for they pass' 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: which are de.

vour'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 trusty 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,

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