That bastes his arrogance with his own feam; Enter his thoughts,-fave fuch as do revolve By going to Achilles : That were to enlard his fat-already pride; And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion. This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid ! And fay in thunder-Achilles, go to him. Neft. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. [Afide. Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applaufe! [Afide. Ajax. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pafh him o'er the face. Aga. O, no, you shall not go. Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his Let me go to him. [pride: Uly. Not for the worth that hangs upon our Ajax. A paltry infolent fellow,— [quarrel. Aga. He will be the physician, that should be the patient. [Afide. Ajax. An all men were o' my mind, Ulyff. Wit would be out of fashion. [Afide. Ajax. He fhould not bear it so, He fhould eat fwords firft: Shall pride carry it? Neft. An 'twould, you'd carry half. Uly. He would have ten fhares. [Afide. [Afide. Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him fupple:Neft. He's not yet thorough warm; force him with praises; Pour in, in; pour his ambition is dry. [fide. Ulf. My lord, you feed too much on this dislikę. [To AGAMEMNon. Neft. Our noble general, do not fo. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Uly. Why,'tis this naming of him does him harm. But 'tis before his face; Here is a man I will be filent, Neft. Wherefore fhould you fo? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. Ul. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whorefon dog, that shall palter thus 'Would he were a Trojan! [with us! Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now Uly. If he were proud? Dio. Or covetous of praife? Ulf. Ay, or furly borne? Dio. Or ftrange, or felf-affected? Uly. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet compofure; Praise him that got thee, fhe that gave thee fuck: Το To finewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ;— Ajax. Shall I call you father? Neft. Ay, my good fon. Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. Uly. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Fresh kings are come to Troy: To-morrow, ACT III. SCENE I. Troy. The Palace. Enter PANDARUS, and a Servant. [Mufick within.] Pandarus, FRIEND! you! pray you, a word: Do not you follow the young lord Paris? E 2 Serv. Serv. Ay, fir, when he goes before me. Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean. Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentlemen; I must needs praise him. Serv. The lord be praised! Pan. You know me, do you not? Serv. 'Faith, fir, fuperficially. Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord Pandarus. Serv. I hope, I fhall know your honour better. Pan. I do defire it. Serv. You are in the state of grace? Pan. Grace! not fo, friend; honour and lordThip are my titles :-What mufick is this? Serv. I do but partly know, fir: it is mufick in parts. Pan. Know you the musicians? Serv. Wholly, fir. Pan. Who play they to? Serv. To the hearers, fir. Pan. At whofe pleasure, friend? Serv. At mine, fir, and theirs that love mufick. Pan. Command, I mean, friend. Serv. Who fhall I command, fir? Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whofe request do these men play? Serv. That's to't, indeed, fir: Marry, fir, at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in perfon; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invifible foul, Pan. Who, my coufin Creffida? Serv. No, fir, Helen; Could you not find out that by her attributes? Pan. It fhould feem, fellow, that thou haft not feen the lady Creffida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complimental affault upon him, for my business feeths. Serv. Sodden business! there's a ftewed phrase, indeed! Enter PARIS, and HELEN, attended. Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair defires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them!-efpecially to you, fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow! Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. Pan. You fpeak your fair pleasure, fweet queen. -Fair prince, here is good broken mufick. Par. You have broke it, coufin: and, by my life, you fhall make it whole again; you fhall piece it out with a piece of your performance :-Nell, he is full of harmony. Pan. Truly, lady, no. Helen. O, fir, . Pan. Rude, in footh; in good footh, very rude. Par. Well faid, my lord! well, you say fo`in fits, Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen:My lord, will you vouchfafe me a word? Helen. Nay, this fhall not hedge us out: we'll hear you fing, certainly. Pan. Well, fweet 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-fweet, lord, E 3 Pan. |