Achil. What, with me too, Thersites? Ther. 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.

Achil. What, what?

Ther. Yes, good sooth:-to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to!

Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou, afterwards.

Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace. Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. 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.

Patr. A good riddance,

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host;

That Hector, by the first 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? Achil. I know not; it is put to lottery; otherwise He knew his man.

Ajax. O, meaning you:-I'll go learn more of it. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Troy. A Room in PRIAM's Palace. Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS.

Pri. 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, travel, 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?
Hect. 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 called
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:

You know, an enemy intends you harm;
You know, a sword employed is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm :
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels;
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorbed?-Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: Manhood and
honour

Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts

With this crammed reason: reason and respect Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding.

Tro.

What is aught, but as 't is valued? Hect. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds its estimate and dignity

As well wherein 't is precious of itself

As in the prizer: 't is mad idolatry

To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes that is attributive
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.

Tro. 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 ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment: How may I avoid,
Although, my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion

Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships,

And turned crowned kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch 't was wisdom Paris went
(As you must needs, for you all cried-"Go, go"),
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize
(As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands
And cried "Inestimable!"), why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you prized
Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!

But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!
Cas. [within.] Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.

What noise? what shriek is this?
Tro. 'Tis our mad sister; I do know her voice.
Cas. [within.] Cry, Trojans!
Hect. It is Cassandra.

Enter CASSANDRA, raving.

Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand

eyes,

And I will fill them with prophetic tears!

Hect. Peace, sister, peace.

Cas. Virgins and boys,-mid-age and wrinkled
elders,

Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears!
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;
Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen, and a woe:
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit.
Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high
strains

Of divination in our sister work

Some touches of remorse? or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same?

Tro.

Why, brother Hector,

We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel
Which hath our several honours all engaged
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touched than all Priam's sons:
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen
To fight for and maintain!

Par. Else might the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings, as your counsels:
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
For what, alas, can these my single arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.

Pri.

Paris, you speak

Like one besotted on your sweet delights:
You have the honey still, but these the gall;
So to be valiant is no praise at all.

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it;
But I would have the soil of her fair rape
Wiped off, in honourable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransacked queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up
On terms of base compulsion? Can it be,
That so degenerate a strain as this

Should once set footing in your generous bosoms?

There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended; nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestowed, or death unfamed,
Where Helen is the subject: then, I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; And on the cause and question now in hand Have glozed-but superficially; not much Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought Unfit to hear moral philosophy :

The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempered blood,
Than to make up a free determination
"Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision. Nature craves,
All dues be rendered to their owners: now,
What nearer debt in all humanity,
Than wife is to the husband? If this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection;
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbéd wills, resist the same;
There is a law in each well-ordered nation,
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king
(As it is known she is), these moral laws
Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud
To have her back returned: thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this, in way of truth: yet ne'ertheless,
My sprightly brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still;
For 't is a cause that hath no mean dependence
Upon our joint and several dignities.

Tro. Why, there you touched the life of our
design:

Were it not glory that we more affected
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown;
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds;
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canónise us :
For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promised glory
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revénue.

Hect.
I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.—
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits:

Ther. How now, Thersites? what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction! 'would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me: 'sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles-a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O, thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus; if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil, envy, say amen. What ho! my lord

Achilles !

Enter PATROclus.

Patr. Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail.

Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out, says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?

Patr. What, art thou devout! Wast thou in prayer?

Ther. Ay; the heavens hear me !

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Who's there?

Patr. Thersites, my lord.

Achil. Where, where?- Art thou come ! Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou

not served thyself into my table so many meals? Come; what's Agamemnon?

Ther. Thy commander, Achilles: then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?

Patr. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patr. Thou mayst tell, that know'st.

Achil. O, tell, tell!

Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool.

Patr. You rascal!

Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileged man.— - Proceed, Thersites.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.

Achil. Derive this; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive. Patr. Why am I a fool?

Ther. Make that demand of the prover: it suffices me, thou art. Look you, who comes here?

Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, AJAX, and DIOMEDES.

Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody: Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit.

Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery! all the argument is, a cuckold and a whore: a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and to bleed to death upon! Now the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all!

[Exit.

Agam. Where is Achilles? Patr. Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord. Agam. Let it be known to him that we are here. He shent our messengers; and we lay by Our appertainments, visiting of him : Let him be told so; lest perchance he think We dare not move the question of our place, Or know not what we are.

Patr. I shall say so to him. [Exit. Ulys. We saw him at the opening of his tent; he is not sick.

Ajax. 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.-A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON aside. Nes. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?

We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion, winged thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.

Much attribute he hath; and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him: yet all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him: and you shall not sin
If you do say we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than
himself

Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on;
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,
That if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report—
Bring action hither; this cannot go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant. Tell him so.
Patr. I shall; and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.

Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied; We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter you. [Exit ULYSSES.

Ajax. What is he more than another? Agam. No more than what he thinks he is. Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am?

Agam. No question.

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say—

he is?

Agam. No, noble Ajax ; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is.

Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

Nes. And yet he loves himself: is it not strange? [Aside.

And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagined worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself. What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry "No recovery!"

Agam.

Let Ajax go to him.—
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent:
'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led,
At your request, a little from himself.

Ulys. O, Agamemnon, let it not be so!
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts-save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself;-shall he be worshipped
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice-worthy and right-valiant lord
Must not so strain his palm, nobly acquired;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,