Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616. The Historie of Troylus and Cresseida (1609 Edition)
Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library
|
Table of Contents for this work | | All on-line databases | Etext Center Homepage |
Act II
[ Enter Aiax and Thersites.]
Aiax.
Thersites.
Ther.
Agamemnon, how if he had biles, full, all over, gene-rally.
Aiax.
Thersites.
Ther:
And those byles did run (say so), did not the gene-rall
run then, were not that a botchy core.
Aiax.
Dogge.
Ther.
Then would come some matter from him, I see none
now.
Aia:
Thou bitchwolfs son canst thou not heare, feele then.
Ther.
The plague of Greece upon thee thou mongrell beefe
witted Lord.
Aiax.
Speake then thou unsalted leaven, speake, I will beate
thee into hansomnesse.
Ther.
I shall sooner raile thee into wit and holinesse, but I
thinke thy horse will sooner cunne an oration without
booke, then thou learne praier without booke, thou canst
strike canst thou? a red murrion ath thy Jades trickes.
Aiax.
Tode-stoole? learne me the proclamation.
Ther:
Doost thou thinke I have no sence thou strikest mee
thus?
Aiax.
The proclamation.
Ther:
Thou art proclaim'd foole I thinke.
Aiax.
Do not Porpentin, do not, my fingers itch:
Ther.
I would thou didst itch from head to foote, and I had
the scratching of the, I would make thee the lothsomest scab
in Greece, when thou art forth in the incursions thou strikest
as slow as another.
Aiax.
I say the proclamation.
Ther.
Thou gromblest and raylest every houre on Achil-les,
and thou art as full of envy at his greatnesse, as Cerberus
is at Proserpinas beauty, I that thou barkst at him.
Aiax.
Mistres Thersites.
Ther.
Thou shouldst strike him. Aiax Coblofe,
Hee would punne thee into shivers with his fist, as a sayler
breakes a bisket, you horson curre. Do? do?
Aiax:
Thou stoole for a witch:
Ther.
I, Do? do? thou sodden witted Lord, thou hast
no more braine then I have in mine elbowes, an Asinico
may tutor thee, you scurvy valiant asse, thou art heere but to
thrash Troyans, and thou art bought and sould among those
of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou use to beate mee I
will beginne at thy heele, and tell what thou art by ynches,
thou thing of no bowells thou.
Aiax.
You dog:
Ther.
You scurvy Lord.
Aiax.
You curre.
Ther.
Mars his Idiot, do rudenesse, do Camel, do, do.
Achil.
Why how now Aiax wherefore do yee thus,
How now Thersites whats the matter man.
Ther.
You see him there? do you?
Achil.
I whats the matter.
Ther:
Nay looke upon him.
Achil:
So I do, whats the matter?
Ther:
Nay but regard him well.
Achil:
Well, why so I do.
Ther:
But yet you looke not well upon him, for who some
ever you take him to be he is Aiax.
Achil.
I know that foole.
Ther.
I but that foole knowes not himselfe.
Aiax:
Therefore I beate thee.
Ther:
Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his eva-sions
have eares thus long, I have bobd his braine more then
he has beate my bones. It will buy nine sparrowes for a pen-ny,
and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a spar-row:
this Lord (Achilles) Aiax, who weares his wit in his bel-ly,
and his guts in his head, I tell you what I say of him.
Ach.
What.
Ther.
I say this Aiax.
Achil.
Nay good Aiax.
Ther.
Has not so much wit.
Achil.
Nay I must hold you.
Ther.
As will stop the eye of Hellens needle, for whom
he comes to fight.
Achil.
Peace foole?
Ther.
I would have peace and quietnesse, but the foole
will not, he there, that he: looke you there?
Aiax.
Oh thou damned curre I shall===
Achil.
Will you set your wit to a fooles.
Ther.
No I warrant you, the fooles will shame it.
Patro.
Good words Thersites.
Achil.
Whats the quarrell.
Aiax.
I bad the vile oule goe learne mee the tenor of the
proclamation, and he railes upon me.
Ther.
I serve thee not?
Aiax.
Well, go to, go to.
Ther.
I serve here voluntary.
Achil.
Your last service was suffrance: twas not voluntary,
no man is beaten voluntary, Aiax was here the voluntary,
and you as under an Impresse.
Ther.
E'ene so, a great deale of your witte to, lies in your
sinnewes, or els there bee liers, Hector shall have a great
catch and knocke at either of your brains, a were as good
crack a fusty nut with no kernell.
Achil.
What with me to Thersites.
Ther.
Thers Ulisses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy
ere their grandsiers had nailes, yoke you like draught oxen,
and make you plough up the wars.
Achil.
What? what?
Ther.
Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Aiax, to===
Aiax.
I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther.
Tis no matter, I shall speake as much as thou afterwards.
Patro.
No more words Thersites peace.
Ther.
I will hold my peace when Achilles brooch bids me, shall I?
Achil.
There's for you Patroclus.
Ther.
I will see you hang'd like Clatpoles, ere I come any
more to your tents, I will keepe where there is wit stirring,
and leave the faction of fooles. [ Exit.]
Patro.
A good riddance.
Achil.
Marry this sir is proclaim'd through all our hoste,
That Hector by the first houre of the Sunne:
Will with a trumpet twixt our Tents and Troy,
To morrow morning call some Knight to armes,
That hath a stomack, and such a one that dare,
Maintaine I know not what, (tis trash) farewell===
Aiax.
Farewell, who shall answer him.
Achil.
I know not; tis put to lottry, otherwise,
He knew his man.
Aiax.
O meaning you? I will go learne more of it.
[ Enter Priam, Hector, Troylus, Paris and Helenus.]
Priam.
After so many houres, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once againe saies Nestor from the Greekes:
Deliver Hellen, (and all domage els,
As honour, losse of time, travell, expence,
Wounds, friends and what els deere that is consum'd:
In hot digestion of this cormorant warre)
Shalbe stroke off, Hector what say you to't?
Hect:
Though no man lesser feares the Greekes then I
As farre as toucheth my particular: yet dread Priam
There is no Lady of more softer bowells,
More spungy to suck in the sence of feare:
More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes
Then Hector is: the wound of peace is surely
Surely secure, but modest doubt is calld
The beacon of the wise, the tent that serches,
Too'th bottome of the worst let Hellen go,
Since the first sword was drawne about this question
Every tith soule 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath beene as deere as Hellen. I meane of ours:
If we have loste so many tenthes of ours,
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
(Had it our name) the valew of one ten,
What merits in that reason which denies,
The yeelding of her up?
So great as our dread fathers in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with Compters summe,
The past proportion of his infinite
And buckle in, a waste most fathomles,
With spanes and inches so dyminutive:
As feares and reasons: Fie for Godly shame?
Hele.
No marvell though you bite so sharpe of reasons,
You are so empty of them should not our father;
Beare the great sway of his affaires with reason,
Because your speech hath none that tell him so?
Troy.
You are for dreames and slumbers brother Priest,
You furre your gloves with reason, here are your reasons
You know an enemy intends you harme:
You know a sword imployde is perilous
And reason flies the obiect of all harme.
Who marvells then when Helenus beholds,
A Gretian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heeles,
And flie like chidden Mercury from Jove
Or like a starre disorbd? nay if we talke of reason,
Lets shut our gates and sleepe: man-hood and honour,
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cram'd reason, reason and respect,
Make lyvers pale, and lustihood deiect.
Hect.
Brother, shee is not worth, what shee doth cost the
keeping.
Troy.
Whats aught but as tis valved.
Hect.
But valew dwells not in perticuler will,
It holds his estimate and dignity,
As well wherein tis precious of it selfe
As in the prizer, tis madde Idolatry
To make the service greater then the God,
And the will dotes that is attributive;
To what infectiously it selfe affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit,
Troy.
I take to day a wife, and my election:
Is led on in the conduct of my will,
My will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
Two traded pilots twixt the dangerous shore,
Of will and Judgement: how may I avoyde?
(Although my will distast what it elected)
The wife I choose, there can be no evasion,
To blench from this and to stand firme by honor,
We turne not backe the silkes upon the marchant
When we have soild them, nor the remainder viands,
We do not throw in unrespective sive,
Because we now are full, it was thought meete
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greekes.
Your breth with full consent bellied his sailes,
The seas and winds (old wranglers) tooke a truce:
And did him service, hee toucht the ports desir'd,
And for an old aunt whom the Greekes held Captive,
He brought a Grecian Queene, whose youth and freshnesse,
Wrincles Apolloes, and makes pale the morning.
Why keepe we her? the Grecians keepe our Aunt,
Is she worth keeping? why shee is a pearle,
Whose price hath lansh't above a thousand ships:
And turn'd crown'd Kings to Marchants,
If youle avouch twas wisdome Paris went,
As you must needs, for you all cri'd go, go,
If youle confesse he brought home worthy prize:
As you must needs, for you all, clapt your hands,
And cry'd inestimable: why do you now
The yssue of your proper wisdomes rate,
And do a deed that never fortune did,
Begger the estimation, which you priz'd
Ritcher then sea and land? O theft most base,
That wee have stolne, what we do feare to keepe,
But theeves unworthy of a thing so stolne:
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We feare to warrant in our native place.
[ Enter Cassandra raving.]
Cass.
Cry Troyans cry:
Priam.
What noise? what shrike is this?
Troy.
Tis our madde sister I do know her voice,
Cass.
Cry Troyans.
Hect.
It is Cassandra!
Cass.
Cry Troyans cry, lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetick teares.
Hect.
Peace sister peace.
Cass.
Virgins, and boyes, mid-age, and wrinckled elders,
Soft infancie, that nothing canst but crie,
Adde to my clamours: let us pay be-times
A moytie of that masse of mone to come:
Crie Troyans crye, practise your eyes with teares,
Troy must not bee, nor goodly Illion stand.
Our fire-brand brother Paris burnes us all,
Crie Troyans crie, a Helen and a woe,
Crie, crie, Troy burnes, or else let Hellen goe. [ Exit.]
Hect.
Now youthfull Troylus, do not these high straines
Of divination in our Sister, worke
Some touches of remorse? or is your bloud
So madly hott, that no discourse of reason,
Nor feare of bad successe in a bad cause,
Can qualifie the same?
Troy.
Why brother Hector,
We may not thinke the justnesse of each act
Such, and no other then event doth forme it,
Nor once deiect the courage of our mindes,
Because Cassandra's madde, her brain-sick raptures
Cannot distast the goodnesse of a quarrell,
Which hath our severall honors all engag'd,
To make it gratious. For my private part,
I am no more toucht then all Priams sonnes:
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us,
Such things as might offend the weakest spleene,
To fight for and maintaine.
Par.
Else might the world convince of levitie,
As well my under-takings as your counsells,
But I attest the gods, your full consent,
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All feares attending on so dire a proiect,
For what (alas) can these my single armes?
What propugnation is in one mans valour
To stand the push and enmitie of those
This quarrell would excite? Yet I protest
Were I alone to passe the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I have will,
Paris
should nere retract, what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuite,
Pria.
Paris you speake
Like one be-sotted on your sweet delights,
You have the hony still, but these the gall,
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.
Par.
Sir, I propose not meerly to my selfe,
The pleasures such a beautie brings with it,
But I would have the soile of her faire rape,
Wip't of in honorable keeping her,
What treason were it to the ransackt queene,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up
On tearmes of base compulsion? can it be,
That so degenerate a straine as this,
Should once set footing in your generous bosomes?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to drawe,
When Helen is defended: nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestowd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subiect. Then I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The worlds large spaces cannot paralell.
Hect.
Paris and Troylus, you have both said well,
And on the cause and question now in hand,
Have glozd, but superficially, not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to heere Morrall Philosophie;
The reasons you alleadge, do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempred blood,
Then to make up a free determination
Twixt right and wrong: for pleasure and revenge,
Have eares more deafe then Adders to the voyce
Of any true decision. Nature craves
All dues be rendred to their owners. Now
What neerer debt in all humanitie,
Then wife is to the husband? if this lawe
Of nature be corrupted through affection
And that great mindes of partiall indulgence,
To their benummed wills resist the same,
There is a lawe in each well-orderd nation,
To curbe those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refracturie;
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King,
As it is knowne she is, these morrall lawes
Of nature and of nations, speake alowd
To have her back returnd: thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenvates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavie. Hectors opinion
Is this in way of truth: yet nere the lesse,
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keepe Helen still,
For 'tis a cause that hath no meane dependance,
Upon our joynt and severall dignities.
Tro.
Why there you toucht the life of our designe:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Then the performance of our heaving spleenes,
I would not wish a drop of Troyan bloud,
Spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector,
She is a theame of honour and renowne,
A spurre to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beate downe our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us,
For I presume brave Hector would not loose
So rich advantage of a promisd glory,
As smiles upon the fore-head of this action,
For the wide worlds revenew.
Hect.
I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus,
Will shrike amazement to their drowsie spirits,
I was advertizd, their great generall slept,
Whilst emulation in the armie crept:
This I presume will wake him. [ Exeunt.]
[ Enter Thersites solus.]
How now Thersites? what lost in the Labyrinth of thy
furie? shall the Elephant Aiax carry it thus? he beates me,
and I raile at him: O worthy satisfaction, would it were
otherwise: that I could beate him, whilst hee raild at mee:
Sfoote, Ile learne to coniure and raise Divels, but Ile see
some issue of my spitefull execrations. Then ther's Achilles, a
rare inginer. If Troy bee not taken till these two under-mine
it, the walls will stand till they fall of them-selves.
O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou
art Jove the king of gods: and Mercury, loose all the Ser-pentine
craft of thy Caduceus, if yee take not that little
little lesse then little witte from them that they have:
which short-armd Ignorance it selfe knowes is so aboun-dant
scarce, it will not in circumuention deliver a flie from
a spider, without drawing their massie Irons, and cutting
the web. After this the vengeance on the whole campe,
or rather the Neopolitan bone-ache: for that me thinkes is
the curse depending on those that warre for a placket. I
have said my prayers, and divell Envie say Amen. What ho
my Lord Achilles?
Patrocl.
Whose there? Thersites? good Thersites come
in and raile.
Thersi.
If I could a remembred a guilt counterfeit, thou
couldst not have slipt out of my contemplation: but it is no
matter, thy selfe upon thy selfe. The common curse of man-kinde,
Folly and Ignorance, be thine in great revenew: Hea-uen
blesse thee from a tutor, and discipline come not neere
thee. Let thy bloud be thy direction till thy death: then if
she that layes thee out sayes thou art not a faire course, Ile
be sworne and sworne upon't, shee never shrowded any but
lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?
Patro.
What art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
Thers.
I the heavens heare me.
Patro
Amen. [ Enter Achilles.]
Achil.
Who's there?
Patro.
Thersites, my Lord.
Achil.
Where? where? O where? art thou come why my
cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thy selfe into
my table, so many meales, come what's Agamemnon?
Ther.
Thy commander Achilles, then tell me Patroclus,
whats Achilles?
Patro.
Thy Lord Thersites. Then tell mee I pray thee,
what's Thersites?
Ther.
Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell mee Patroclus,
what art thou?
Ther.
Ile decline the whole question. Agamemnon com-mands
Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus know-er,
and Patroclus is a foole.
Achil.
Derive this? come?
Ther.
Agamemnon is a foole to offer to command Achil-les,
Achilles is a foole to be commanded. Thersites is a foole
to serve such a foole, and this Patroclus is a foole positive.
Patr.
Why am I a foole?
Ther.
Make that demand of the Prover, it suffices mee
thou art: looke you, who comes heere?
[ Enter Agam: Uliss: Nestor, Diomed, Aiax & Calcas.]
Achil.
Come Patroclus, Ile speake with no body: come
in with me Thersites.
Ther.
Here is such patcherie, such jugling, and such kna-uery:
all the argument is a whore, and a Cuckold, a good
quarrell to draw emulous factions, & bleed to death upon.
Agam.
Where is Achilles?
Patro.
Within his tent, but ill disposd my Lord.
Aga.
Let it be knowne to him, that we are heere,
He sate our messengers and we lay by,
Our appertainings, visiting of him
Let him be told so, least perchance he thinke,
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patro.
I shall say so to him.
Uliss.
We saw him at the opening of his tent,
Hee is not sick.
Aiax.
Yes Lion sick, sick of proud heart, you may call it
melancholy if you will favour the man. But by my head 'tis
pride: but why, why, let him shew us a cause?
Nest.
What mooves Aiax thus to bay at him?
Uliss.
Achillis hath invegled his foole from him,
Nest.
Who Thersites?
Ulis.
He.
Nest.
The[n] wil Aiax lack matter, if he have lost his argume[n]t.
Uli.
No you see he is his argument, that has his argument
Achilles.
Nes.
All the better, their fractio[n] is more our wish then their
faction, but it was a stro[n]g composure a foole could disunite.
Uli.
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily unty,
Heere comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him.
Ulis.
The Elephant hath joynts, but none for courtesie,
His legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
Patro.
Achilles bids me say he is much sorry,
If any thing more then your sport and pleasure
Did moove your greatnesse, and this noble state,
To call upon him. He hopes it is no other
But for your health, and your disgestion sake,
An after dinners breath.
Agam.
Heere you Patroclus:
We are too well acquainted with these answers,
But his evasion winged thus swift with scorne,
Cannot out-flie our apprehensions,
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his vertues,
Not vertuously on his owne part beheld,
Doe in our eyes begin to lose their glosse,
Yea like faire fruite in an unholsome dish,
Are like to rott untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speake with him, and you shall not sinne,
If you do say, we thinke him over-proud
And under-honest: in selfe assumption greater
Then in the note of judgement. And worthier then himselfe
Heere tend the savage strangenesse he puts on
Disguise, the holy strength of their commaund,
And under-write in an observing kinde,
His humorous predominance: yea watch
His course, and time, his ebbs and flowes, and if
The passage, and whole streame of his commencement,
Rode on his tide. Goe tell him this, and adde,
That if he over-hold his price so much,
Weele none of him. But let him like an engine,
Not portable, lye under this report.
Bring action hither, this cannot go to warre,
A stirring dwarfe we doe allowance give,
Before a sleeping gyant. Tell him so.
Patr.
I shall, and bring his answer presently.
Agam.
In second voyce weele not be satisfied,
We come to speake with him: Ulisses entertaine.
Aiax.
What is he more then another.
Agam.
No more then what he thinkes he is.
Aiax.
Is he so much: doe you not thinke he thinkes him-selfe
a better man then I am?
Agam.
No question.
Aiax.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is.
Agam.
No noble Aiax, you are as strong, as valiant, as
wise, no lesse noble, much more gentle, and altogether
more tractable.
Aia.
Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow?
I know not what pride is.
Agam.
Your minde is the cleerer, and your vertues the
fairer, hee that is proud eates up him-selfe: Pride is his
owne glasse, his owne trumpet, his owne chronicle, and
what ever praises it selfe but in the deed, devoures the
deed in the praise.
[ Enter Ulisses.]
Aiax.
I do hate a proud man, as I do hate the ingendring
of Toades.
Nest.
And yet he loves himselfe, ist not strange?
Ulis.
Achilles will not to the field to morrow.
Agam.
Whats his excuse?
Ulis.
He doth relye on none.
But carries on the streame of his dispose,
Without observance, or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in selfe admission.
Agam.
Why will he not upon our faire request,
Untent his person, and share th' ayre with us.
Ulis.
Things small as nothing, for requests sake onely,
He makes important, possest he is with greatnesse,
And speakes not to himselfe but with a pride,
That quarrels at selfe breath. Imagind worth,
Holds in his bloud such swolne and hott discourse,
That twixt his mentall and his active parts,
Kingdomd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters downe himselfe. What should I say,
He is so plaguie proud, that the death tokens of it,
Crie no recoverie.
Agam.
Let Aiax go to him,
Deare Lord, go you, and greete him in his tent,
'Tis said he holds you well, and will be lead,
At your request a little from himselfe.
Ulis.
O Agamemnon let it not be so,
Weele consecrate the steps that Aiax makes,
When they go from Achilles: shall the proud Lord
That basts his arrogance with his owne seame,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve,
And ruminate him-selfe: shall he be worshipt,
Of that we hold an idoll more then hee,
No: this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,
Shall not so staule his palme nobly acquird,
Nor by my will assubiugate his merit,
As amply liked as Achilles is by going to Achilles,
That were to enlard his fat already pride,
And adde more coles to Cancer when he burnes,
With entertaining great Hiperion,
This Lord go to him. Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder Achilles go to him.
Nest.
O this is well, he rubs the vaine of him.
Diom.
And how his silence drinkes up his applause,
Aia.
If I go to him: with my armed fist ile push him ore the face.
Agam.
O no, you shall not goe,
Aia.
And he be proud with me, Ile phese his pride,
Let me goe to him.
Uliss.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrell.
Aiax.
A paltry insolent fellow.
Nest.
How he describes him selfe.
Aiax.
Can he not be sociable.
Uliss.
The Raven chides blacknesse.
Aiax.
Ile tell his humorous bloud.
Agam.
Hee wilbe the phisition, that should bee the paci-ent.
Aiax.
And all men were of my minde.
Uliss.
Wit would bee out of fashion.
Aiax:
A should not beare it so, a should eate swords first?
shall pride carry it?
Nest.
And two'od yow'd carry halfe.
Aiax.
A would have ten shares. I will kneade him, Ile
make him supple, he's not yet through warme?
Nest.
Force him with praiers poure in, poure, his ambition
is drie.
Uliss.
My Lord you feed to much on this dislike.
Nest.
Our noble generall do not do so?
Diom.
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Uliss:
Why tis this naming of him do's him harme,
Here is a man but tis before his face, I wilbe silent.
Nest.
Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous as Achilles is.
Uliss.
Know the whole world hee is as valiant===
Aiax.
A hoarson dog that shall palter with us thus, would
he were a Troyan?
Nest.
What a vice were it in Aiax now:
Uliss:
If hee were proude.
Diom.
Or covetous of praise.
Uliss.
I or surly borne.
Diom.
Or strange or selfe affected.
Uliss:
Thank the heavens Lord, thou art of sweet composure
Praise him that gat thee, shee that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature,
Thrice fam'd beyond all thy erudition:
But hee that disciplind thine armes to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twaine,
And give him halfe, and for thy vigour:
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yeeld,
To sinowy Aiax, I will not praise thy wisdome,
Which like a boord: a pale, a shore confines
This spacious and dilated parts, here's Nestor,
Instructed by the antiquary times:
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise,
But pardon father Nestor were your daies
As greene as Aiax, and your braine so temper'd,
You should not have the emynence of him,
But be as Aiax. Aiax. Shall I call you father?
Nest.
I my good Sonne.
Diom.
Be ruld by him Lord Aiax.
Uliss.
There is no tarrying here the Hart Achilles,
Keepes thicket, please it our great generall,
To call together all his state of warre,
Fresh Kings are come to Troy. To morrow
We must with all our maine of power stand fast,
And here's a Lord come Knights from East to West
And call their flower, Aiax shall cope the best.
Aga.
Go we to counsell, let Achilles sleepe,
Light boates saile swift, though greater hulkes draw deepe. [ Exeunt.]