Complete Plays, The (99 page)

Agamemnon

This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas;
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.

Nestor

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.

Aeneas

Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth!

Ulysses

Amen.

Agamemnon

Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand;
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.
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

Ulysses

Nestor!

Nestor

What says Ulysses?

Ulysses

I have a young conception in my brain;
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nestor

What is’t?

Ulysses

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.

Nestor

Well, and how?

Ulysses

This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,
However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Nestor

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.

Ulysses

And wake him to the answer, think you?

Nestor

Yes, ’tis most meet: whom may you else oppose,
That can from Hector bring his honour 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 finest palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly poised
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 supposed
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 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.

Ulysses

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.

Nestor

I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?

Ulysses

What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent;
A nd 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 for the better 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.

Nestor

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

A
CT
II

S
CENE
I. A
PART
OF
THE
G
RECIAN
CAMP
.

Enter Ajax and Thersites

Ajax

Thersites!

Thersites

Agamemnon, how if he had boils? full, all over, generally?

Ajax

Thersites!

Thersites

And those boils did run? say so: did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core?

Ajax

Dog!

Thersites

Then would come some matter from him; I see none now.

Ajax

Thou bitch-wolf’s son, canst thou not hear?

Beating him

Feel, then.

Thersites

The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!

Ajax

Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Thersites

I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o’ thy jade’s tricks!

Ajax

Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.

Thersites

Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?

Ajax

The proclamation!

Thersites

Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.

Ajax

Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch.

Thersites

I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another.

Ajax

I say, the proclamation!

Thersites

Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpine’s beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.

Ajax

Mistress Thersites!

Thersites

Thou shouldest strike him.

Ajax

Cobloaf!

Thersites

He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.

Ajax

[Beating him]
 
You whoreson cur!

Thersites

Do, do.

Ajax

Thou stool for a witch!

Thersites

Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou!

Ajax

You dog!

Thersites

You scurvy lord!

Ajax

[Beating him]
 
You cur!

Thersites

Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus

Achilles

Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you thus? How now,
Thersites! what’s the matter, man?

Thersites

You see him there, do you?

Achilles

Ay; what’s the matter?

Thersites

Nay, look upon him.

Achilles

So I do: what’s the matter?

Thersites

Nay, but regard him well.

Achilles

‘Well!’ why, I do so.

Thersites

But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achilles

I know that, fool.

Thersites

Ay, but that fool knows not himself.

Ajax

Therefore I beat thee.

Thersites

Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the nineth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head, I’ll tell you what I say of him.

Achilles

What?

Thersites

I say, this Ajax —

Ajax offers to beat him

Achilles

Nay, good Ajax.

Thersites

Has not so much wit —

Achilles

Nay, I must hold you.

Thersites

As will stop the eye of Helen’s needle, for whom he comes to fight.

Achilles

Peace, fool!

Thersites

I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there: that he: look you there.

Ajax

O thou damned cur! I shall —

Achilles

Will you set your wit to a fool’s?

Thersites

No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it.

Patroclus

Good words, Thersites.

Achilles

What’s the quarrel?

Ajax

I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Thersites

I serve thee not.

Ajax

Well, go to, go to.

Thersites

I serve here voluntarily.

Achilles

Your last service was sufferance, ’twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.

Thersites

E’en so; a great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a’ were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.

Achilles

What, with me too, Thersites?

Thersites

There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught-oxen and make you plough up the wars.

Achilles

What, what?

Thersites

Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to!

Ajax

I shall cut out your tongue.

Thersites

’Tis no matter! I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.

Patroclus

No more words, Thersites; peace!

Thersites

I will hold my peace when Achilles’ brach bids me, shall I?

Achilles

There’s for you, Patroclus.

Thersites

I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring and leave the faction of fools.

Exit

Patroclus

A good riddance.

Achilles

Marry, this, sir, is proclaim’d through all our host:
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will with a trumpet ’twixt our tents and Troy
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms
That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare
Maintain — I know not what: ’tis trash. Farewell.

Ajax

Farewell. Who shall answer him?

Achilles

I know not: ’tis put to lottery; otherwise
He knew his man.

Ajax

O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it.

Exeunt

S
CENE
II. T
ROY
. A
ROOM
IN
P
RIAM
’
S
PALACE
.

Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus

Priam

After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:
‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else —
As honour, loss of time, travail, expense,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed
In hot digestion of this cormorant war —
Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you to’t?

Hector

Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I
As far as toucheth my particular,
Yet, dread Priam,
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out ‘Who knows what follows?’
Than Hector is: the wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call’d
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, ’mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten,
What merit’s in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up?