The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. |
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Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and Others. |
| Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, |
| Anticipating time with starting courage. |
| Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, |
| Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air |
| May pierce the head of the great combatant |
| And hale him hither. |
| Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. |
| Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: |
| Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek |
| Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon. |
| Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood; |
| Thou blow'st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds. |
| Ulyss. No trumpet answers. |
| Achil. 'Tis but early days. |
| Agam. Is not yond Diomed with Calchas' daughter? |
| Ulyss. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; |
| He rises on the toe: that spirit of his |
| In aspiration lifts him from the earth. |
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Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA. |
| Agam. Is this the Lady Cressid? |
| Dio. Even she. |
| Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. |
| Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. |
| Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular; |
| 'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. |
| Nest. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. |
| So much for Nestor. |
| Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady: |
| Achilles bids you welcome. |
| Men. I had good argument for kissing once. |
| Patr. But that's no argument for kissing now; |
| For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, |
| And parted thus you and your argument. |
| Ulyss. O, deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! |
| For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. |
| Patr. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine: |
| Patroclus kisses you. |
| Men. O! this is trim. |
| Patr. Paris and I, kiss evermore for him. |
| Men. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. |
| Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive? |
| Patr. Both take and give. |
| Cres. I'll make my match to live, |
| The kiss you take is better than you give; |
| Therefore no kiss. |
| Men. I'll give you boot; I'll give you three for one. |
| Cres. You're an odd man; give even, or give none. |
| Men. An odd man, lady! every man is odd. |
| Cres. No, Paris is not; for, you know 'tis true, |
| That you are odd, and he is even with you. |
| Men. You fillip me o' the head. |
| Cres. No, I'll be sworn. |
| Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his horn. |
| May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? |
| Cres. You may. |
| Ulyss. I do desire it. |
| Cres. Why, beg, then. |
| Ulyss. Why, then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, |
| When Helen is a maid again, and his. |
| Cres. I am your debtor; claim it when 'tis due. |
| Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. |
| Dio. Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your father. [DIOMEDES leads out-CRESSIDA. |
| Nest. A woman of quick sense. |
| Ulyss. Fie, fie upon her! |
| There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, |
| Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out |
| At every joint and motive of her body. |
| O! these encounterers, so glib of tongue, |
| That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, |
| And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts |
| To every tickling reader, set them down |
| For sluttish spoils of opportunity |
| And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within. |
| All. The Trojans' trumpet. |
| Agam. Yonder comes the troop. |
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Enter HECTOR, armed; ĆNEAS, TROILUS, and other Trojans, with Attendants. |
| Ćne. Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done |
| To him that victory commands? or do you purpose |
| A victor shall be known? will you the knights |
| Shall to the edge of all extremity |
| Pursue each other, or shall be divided |
| By any voice or order of the field? |
| Hector bade ask. |
| Agam. Which way would Hector have it? |
| Ćne. He cares not; he'll obey conditions. |
| Achil. 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, |
| A little proudly, and great deal misprising |
| The knight oppos'd. |
| Ćne. If not Achilles, sir. |
| What is your name? |
| Achil. If not Achilles, nothing. |
| Ćne. Therefore Achilles; but, whate'er, know this: |
| In the extremity of great and little, |
| Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; |
| The one almost as infinite as all, |
| The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, |
| And that which looks like pride is courtesy. |
| This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood: |
| In love whereof half Hector stays at home; |
| Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek |
| This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek. |
| Achil. A maiden battle, then? O! I perceive you. |
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Re-enter DIOMEDES. |
| Agam. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, |
| Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord Ćneas |
| Consent upon the order of their fight, |
| So be it; either to the uttermost, |
| Or else a breath: the combatants being kin |
| Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists. |
| Ulyss. They are oppos'd already. |
| Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy? |
| Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight: |
| Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word, |
| Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; |
| Not soon provok'd, nor being provok'd soon calm'd: |
| His heart and hand both open and both free; |
| For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; |
| Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, |
| Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath. |
| Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; |
| For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes |
| To tender objects; but he in heat of action |
| Is more vindicative than jealous love. |
| They call him Troilus, and on him erect |
| A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. |
| Thus says Ćneas; one that knows the youth |
| Even to his inches, and with private soul |
| Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. [Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight. |
| Agam. They are in action. |
| Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own! |
| Tro. Hector, thou sleep'st; awake thee! |
| Agam. His blows are well dispos'd: there, Ajax! |
| Dio. You must no more. [Trumpets cease. |
| Ćne. Princes, enough, so please you. |
| Ajax. I am not warm yet; let us fight again. |
| Dio. As Hector pleases. |
| Hect. Why, then will I no more: |
| Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, |
| A cousin-german to great Priam's seed; |
| The obligation of our blood forbids |
| A gory emulation 'twixt us twain. |
| Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so |
| That thou couldst say, 'This hand is Grecian all, |
| And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg |
| All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood |
| Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister |
| Bounds in my father's,' by Jove multipotent, |
| Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member |
| Wherein my sword had not impressure made |
| Of our rank feud. But the just gods gainsay |
| That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, |
| My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword |
| Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax; |
| By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; |
| Hector would have them fall upon him thus: |
| Cousin, all honour to thee! |
| Ajax. I thank thee, Hector: |
| Thou art too gentle and too free a man: |
| I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence |
| A great addition earned in thy death. |
| Hect. Not Neoptolemus so mirable, |
| On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st oyes |
| Cries, 'This is he!' could promise to himself |
| A thought of added honour torn from Hector. |
| Ćne. There is expectance here from both the sides, |
| What further you will do. |
| Hect. We'll answer it; |
| The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell. |
| Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success,— |
| As seld I have the chance,—I would desire |
| My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. |
| Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's, wish, and great Achilles |
| Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. |
| Hect. Ćneas, call my brother Troilus to me, |
| And signify this loving interview |
| To the expecters of our Trojan part; |
| Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; |
| I will go eat with thee and see your knights. |
| Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. |
| Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name by name; |
| But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes |
| Shall find him by his large and portly size. |
| Agam. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one |
| That would be rid of such an enemy; |
| But that's no welcome; understand more clear, |
| What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks |
| And formless ruin of oblivion; |
| But in this extant moment, faith and troth, |
| Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, |
| Bids thee, with most divine integrity, |
| From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. |
| Hect. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon. |
| Agam. [To TROILUS.] My well-fam'd Lord of Troy, no less to you. |
| Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting: |
| You brace of war-like brothers, welcome hither. |
| Hect. Whom must we answer? |
| Ćne. The noble Menelaus. |
| Hect. O! you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks! |
| Mock not that I affect the untraded oath; |
| Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove: |
| She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. |
| Men. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. |
| Hec. O! pardon; I offend. |
| Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, see thee oft, |
| Labouring for destiny, make cruel way |
| Through ranks of Greekish youth: and I have seen thee, |
| As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, |
| Despising many forfeits and subduements, |
| When thou hast hung thy advanc'd word i' th' air, |
| Not letting it decline on the declin'd; |
| That I have said to some my standers-by, |
| 'Lo! Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!' |
| And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, |
| When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, |
| Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seen; |
| But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, |
| I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, |
| And once fought with him: he was a soldier good; |
| But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, |
| Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; |
| And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. |
| Ćne. 'Tis the old Nestor. |
| Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, |
| That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time: |
| Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. |
| Nest. I would my arms could match thee in contention, |
| As they contend with thee in courtesy. |
| Hect. I would they could. |
| Nest. Ha! |
| By this white beard, I'd fight with thee tomorrow. |
| Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.— |
| Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands, |
| When we have here her base and pillar by us. |
| Hect. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. |
| Ah! sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, |
| Since first I saw yourself and Diomed |
| In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. |
| Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: |
| My prophecy is but half his journey yet; |
| For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, |
| Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, |
| Must kiss their own feet. |
| Hect. I must not believe you: |
| There they stand yet, and modestly I think, |
| The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost |
| A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all, |
| And that old common arbitrator, Time, |
| Will one day end it. |
| Ulyss. So to him we leave it. |
| Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome. |
| After the general, I beseech you next |
| To feast with me and see me at my tent. |
| Achil. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! |
| Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; |
| I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector, |
| And quoted joint by joint. |
| Hect. Is this Achilles? |
| Achil. I am Achilles. |
| Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. |
| Achil. Behold thy fill. |
| Hect. Nay, I have done already. |
| Achil. Thou art too brief: I will the second time, |
| As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. |
| Hect. O! like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; |
| But there's more in me than thou understand'st. |
| Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? |
| Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body |
| Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? |
| That I may give the local wound a name, |
| And make distinct the very breach whereout |
| Hector's great spirit flew. Answer me, heavens! |
| Hect. It would discredit the bless'd gods, proud man, |
| To answer such a question. Stand again: |
| Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly |
| As to prenominate in nice conjocture |
| Where thou wilt hit me dead? |
| Achil. I tell thee, yea. |
| Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, |
| I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well, |
| For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; |
| But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, |
| I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. |
| You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; |
| His insolence draws folly from my lips; |
| But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, |
| Or may I never— |
| Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin: |
| And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, |
| Till accident or purpose bring you to 't: |
| You may have every day enough of Hector, |
| If you have stomach. The general state, I fear, |
| Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. |
| Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field; |
| We have had pelting wars since you refus'd |
| The Grecians' cause. |
| Achil. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? |
| To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; |
| To-night all friends. |
| Hect. Thy hand upon that match. |
| Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; |
| There in the full convive we afterwards, |
| As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall |
| Concur together, severally entreat him. |
| Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, |
| That this great soldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt all except TROILUS and ULYSSES. |
| Tro. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, |
| In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? |
| Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: |
| There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; |
| Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, |
| But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view |
| On the fair Cressid. |
| Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to thee so much, |
| After we part from Agamemnon's tent, |
| To bring me thither? |
| Ulyss. You shall command me, sir. |
| As gentle tell me, of what honour was |
| This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there |
| That wails her absence? |
| Tro. O, sir! to such as boasting show their scars |
| A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? |
| She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth: |
| But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. [Exeunt. |
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