'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led, At your request, a little from himself. Ulyss. O Agamemnon! let it not be so: Enter his thoughts,-save such as doth revolve As amply titled' as Achilles is, by going to Achilles : And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns This lord go to him? Jupiter forbid ; And say in thunder-" Achilles, go to him." Nest. O! this is well; he rubs the vein of him [Aside. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! [Aside. Ajax. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face. Agam. O, no! you shall not go. Ajax. An a' be proud with me, I'll pheeze' his pride. Let me go to him. Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow! Nest. Himself? How he describes [Aside. Ajax. Can he not be sociable? Úlyss. The raven [Aside. Ajax. I'll let his humours blood. Chides blackness. Agam. He will be the physician, that should be the Ajax. An all men were o' my mind,—— patient. [Aside. Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside. [Aside. Ajax. 'A should not bear it so, 'A should eat swords first: shall pride carry it? Nest. An 't would, you'd carry half. 1 Grease. 2 liked: in quarto. * Humble. VOL. VI.-5 Ulyss. Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Aside. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 't is this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man-but 't is before his face; I will be silent. Nest. Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would, he were a Trojan! Ulyss Dio. Or strange, or self-affected? Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure; Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck : Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition; But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight, To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; Ajax. Shall I call you father? Nest.' Ay, my good son. 1 Ulysses: in folio. Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. Ulyss. There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great1 general To call together all his 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. Agam. Go we to council: let Achilles sleep. Light boats sail' swift, though greater hulks3 draw [Exeunt. deep. ACT III. SCENE I.-Troy. A Room in PRIAM's Palace. Pan. Friend you; pray you, a word. Do not you follow the young lord Paris? Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. Pan. You depend upon him, I mean? Pan. You depend upon a noble gentleman: I must needs praise him. Serv. The lord be praised! Pan. You know not? Pan. Friend, know me better. I am the lord Pan darus. Serv. I hope, I shall know your honour better. Serv. You are in the state of grace. [Music within. Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles.-What music is this? Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts. Pan. Know you the musicians? Serv. Wholly, sir. Pan. Who play they to? Serv. To the hearers, sir. Pan. At whose pleasure, friend? Serv. At mine, sir; and theirs that love music. 1 Not in folio. 2 may sail: in folio. 3 bulks in folio. Pan. Command, I mean, friend. Pan. Friend, we understand not one am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. request do these men play? another: I At whose Serv. That's to 't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul Pan. Who? my cousin Cressida ? Serv. 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 complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. Serv. Sodden business: there's a stewed phrase, indeed. Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended. 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. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen.Fair prince, here is good broken music. Par. You have broke it, cousin; and, by my life, you shall make it whole again: you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance.-Nell, 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 business 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 sing, 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; honey-sweet lord, Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to :-commends himself most affectionately to you. Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head. Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen,-i' faith Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la! Nay, I care not for such words: no, no.-And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. Helen. My lord Pandarus, Pan. What says my sweet queen,-my very very sweet queen? Par. What exploit 's in hand? where sups he tonight? Helen. Nay, but my lord, Pan. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups. Par. I'll lay my life,' with my dispraiser, Cressida. Pan. No, no; no such matter, you are wide. Come, your dispraiser is sick. Par. Well, I'll make excuse. Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, your poor dispraiser's sick. Par. I spy. Pan. You spy! what do you spy ?-Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen. Helen. Why, this is kindly done. Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet queen. Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris. Pan, He! no, she 'll none of him; they two are twain. Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three. Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this. I'll sing you a song now. Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. Pan. Ay, you may, you may. Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! Pan. Love? ay, that it shall, i' faith. I These words are only in the quartos. 2 disposer: in f. e. ̧ |