The Grecian Camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S Tent. |
|
Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and Others. |
Agam. Princes, |
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks? |
The ample proposition that hope makes |
In all designs begun on earth below |
Fails in the promis'd largeness: checks and disasters |
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd; |
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, |
Infect the sound pine and divert his grain |
Tortive 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 thought |
That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, |
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works, |
And call them shames? which are indeed nought else |
But the protractive trials of great Jove, |
To find persistive constancy in men: |
The fineness of which metal is not found |
In Fortune's love; for then, the bold and coward, |
The wise and fool, the artist and unread, |
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd 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. |
Nest. With due observance of thy god-like seat, |
Great Agamemnon, 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-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, |
Bounding between the two moist elements, |
Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat |
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now |
Co-rivall'd greatness? either to harbour fled, |
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so |
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide |
In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness |
The herd hath more annoyance by the breese |
Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind |
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, |
And flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage, |
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize, |
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key, |
Retorts to chiding fortune. |
Ulyss. Agamemnon, |
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, |
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit, |
In whom the tempers and the minds of all |
Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. |
Besides the applause and approbation |
The which, [To AGAMEMNON.] most mighty for thy place and sway, |
[To NESTOR.] And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life, |
I give to both your speeches, which were such |
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece |
Should hold up high in brass; and such again |
As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, |
Should with a bond of air, strong as the axletree |
On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears |
To his experienc'd tongue, yet let it please both, |
Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. |
Agam. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect |
That matter needless, of importless burden, |
Divide thy lips, than we are confident, |
When rank Thersites opes his mastick jaws, |
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. |
Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, |
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, |
But for these instances. |
The specialty of rule hath been neglected: |
And look, how many 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, |
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. |
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre |
Observe degree, priority, and place, |
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, |
Office, and custom, in all line of order: |
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol |
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd |
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye |
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, |
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 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 fixure! O! when degree is shak'd, |
Which is the ladder to all high designs, |
The enterprise is sick. How could communities, |
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, |
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, |
The primogenitive 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 meets |
In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters |
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, |
And make a sop 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 every thing includes itself in power, |
Power into will, will into appetite; |
And appetite, a universal wolf, |
So doubly seconded with will and power, |
Must make perforce a 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 general's disdain'd |
By him one step below, he by the next, |
That next by him beneath; so every step, |
Exampled 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 lives, not in her strength. |
Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd |
The fever whereof all our power is sick. |
Agam. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, |
What is the remedy? |
Ulyss. 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 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 sound |
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,— |
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming |
He acts thy greatness in:—and when he speaks, |
'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquar'd, |
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd, |
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff |
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, |
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; |
Cries, 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just. |
Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, |
As he being drest to some oration.' |
That's done;—as near as the extremest ends |
Of parallels, like as Vulcan and his wife:— |
Yet good Achilles still cries, 'Excellent! |
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, |
Arming to answer in a night alarm.' |
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 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. |
Nest. And in the imitation of these twain— |
Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns |
With an imperial voice—many are infect. |
Ajax is grown self-will'd, 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 comparison with dirt; |
To weaken and discredit our exposure, |
How rank soever rounded in with danger. |
Ulyss. 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 know by measure |
Of their observant toil the enemies' weight,— |
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: |
They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war; |
So that the ram that batters down the wall, |
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, |
They place before his hand that made the engine, |
Or those that with the fineness of their souls |
By reason guides his execution. |
Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse |
Makes many Thetis' sons. [A tucket. |
Agam. What trumpet? look, Menelaus. |
Men. From Troy. |
|
Enter ĆNEAS. |
Agam. What would you 'fore our tent? |
Ćne. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? |
Agam. Even this. |
Ćne. May one, that is a herald and a prince, |
Do a fair message to his kingly ears? |
Agam. With surety stronger than Achilles' arm |
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice |
Call Agamemnon head and general. |
Ćne. Fair leave and large security. How may |
A stranger to those most imperial looks |
Know them from eyes of other mortals? |
Agam. How! |
Ćne. Ay; |
I ask, that I might waken reverence, |
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush |
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes |
The youthful Phśbus: |
Which is that god in office, guiding men? |
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? |
Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy |
Are ceremonious courtiers. |
Ćne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, |
As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: |
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, |
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, |
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Ćneas! |
Peace, Trojan! lay thy finger on thy lips! |
The worthiness of praise distains his worth, |
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth; |
But what the repining enemy commends, |
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends. |
Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Ćneas? |
Ćne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. |
Agam. What's your affair, I pray you? |
Ćne. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. |
Agam. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy. |
Ćne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: |
I bring a trumpet to awake his car, |
To set his sense on the attentive bent, |
And then to speak. |
Agam. Speak frankly as the wind: |
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour; |
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, |
He tells thee so himself. |
Ćne.Trumpet, blow aloud, |
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; |
And every Greek of mettle, let him know, |
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. [Trumpet sounds. |
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy. |
A prince called Hector,—Priam is his father,— |
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce |
Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet, |
And to this purpose speak: kings, princes, lords! |
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece |
That holds his honour higher than his ease, |
That seeks 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 hers,—to him this challenge. |
Hector, in 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 compass in his arms; |
And will to-morrow 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 shall honour him; |
If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires, |
The Grecian dames are sunburnt, and not worth |
The splinter of a lance. Even so much. |
Agam. This shall be told our lovers, Lord Ćneas; |
If none of them have soul in such a kind, |
We left them all at home: but we are soldiers; |
And may that 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. |
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man |
When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now; |
But if there be not in our Grecian host |
One noble man that hath one spark of fire |
To answer for his love, tell him from me, |
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, |
And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn; |
And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady |
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste |
As may be in the world: his youth in flood, |
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. |
Ćne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! |
Ulyss. Amen. |
Agam. Fair Lord Ćneas, let me touch your hand; |
To our pavilion shall I lead you first. |
Achilles shall have word of this intent; |
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent: |
Yourself shall feast with us before you go, |
And find the welcome of a noble foe. [Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR. |
Ulyss. Nestor! |
Nest. What says Ulysses? |
Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain; |
Be you my time to bring it to some shape. |
Nest. What is't? |
Ulyss. This 'tis: |
Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride |
That hath to this maturity blown up |
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, |
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, |
To overbulk us all. |
Nest. Well, and how? |
Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, |
However it is spread in general name, |
Relates in purpose only to Achilles. |
Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance |
Whose grossness little characters sum up: |
And, in the publication, make no strain, |
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren |
As banks of Libya,—though, Apollo knows, |
'Tis dry enough,—will with great speed of judgment, |
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose |
Pointing on him. |
Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you? |
Nest. Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose, |
That can from Hector bring those honours off, |
If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat, |
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; |
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute |
With their fin'st palate: and trust to me, Ulysses, |
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd |
In this wild action; for the success, |
Although particular, shall 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 suppos'd |
He that meets Hector issues from our choice; |
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, |
Makes merit her election, and doth boil, |
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd |
Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, |
What heart receives from hence the conquering part, |
To steel a strong opinion to themselves? |
Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, |
In no less working than are swords and bows |
Directive by the limbs. |
Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech: |
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. |
Let us like merchants show our foulest wares, |
And think perchance they'll sell; if not, |
The lustre of the better yet to show |
Shall show the better. Do not consent |
That ever Hector and Achilles meet; |
For both our honour and our shame in this |
Are dogg'd with two strange followers. |
Nest. I see them not with my old eyes: what are they? |
Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, |
Were he not proud, we all should share with him: |
But he already is too insolent; |
And we were better parch in Afric sun |
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, |
Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd, |
Why then we did our main opinion crush |
In taint of our best man. No; make a lottery; |
And by device let blockish Ajax draw |
The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves |
Give him allowance as the worthier man, |
For that will physic the great Myrmidon |
Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall |
His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends. |
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, |
We'll 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 project's life this shape of sense assumes: |
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. |
Nest. Ulysses, |
Now I begin to relish thy advice; |
And I will give a taste of it 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. |
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