|ACT IV SCENE V
|The Grecian camp. Lists set out.
Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS,
MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and others
|Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
|Anticipating time with starting courage.
|Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
|Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air
|May pierce the head of the great combatant
|And hale him hither.
|Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.
|Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
|Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
|Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon:
|Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood;
|Thou blow'st for Hector.
|No trumpet answers.
|'Tis but early days.
|Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter?
|'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
|He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
|In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
|[Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA]
|Is this the Lady Cressid?
|Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
|Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
|Yet is the kindness but particular;
|'Twere better she were kiss'd in general.
|And very courtly counsel: I'll begin.
|So much for Nestor.
|I'll take what winter from your lips, fair lady:
|Achilles bids you welcome.
|I had good argument for kissing once.
|But that's no argument for kissing now;
|For this popp'd Paris in his hardiment,
|And parted thus you and your argument.
|O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
|For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
|The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine:
|Patroclus kisses you.
|O, this is trim!
|Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
|I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave.
|In kissing, do you render or receive?
|Both take and give.
|I'll make my match to live,
|The kiss you take is better than you give;
|Therefore no kiss.
|I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
|You're an odd man; give even or give none.
|An odd man, lady! every man is odd.
|No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
|That you are odd, and he is even with you.
|You fillip me o' the head.
|No, I'll be sworn.
|It were no match, your nail against his horn.
|May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
|I do desire it.
|Why, beg, then.
|Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
|When Helen is a maid again, and his.
|I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.
|Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.
|Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your father.
|[Exit with CRESSIDA]
|A woman of quick sense.
|Fie, fie upon her!
|There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
|Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
|At every joint and motive of her body.
|O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
|That give accosting welcome ere it comes,
|And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
|To every ticklish reader! set them down
|For sluttish spoils of opportunity
|And daughters of the game.
|The Trojans' trumpet.
|Yonder comes the troop.
Enter HECTOR, armed; AENEAS, TROILUS, and other
Trojans, with Attendants
|Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done
|To him that victory commands? or do you purpose
|A victor shall be known? will you the knights
|Shall to the edge of all extremity
|Pursue each other, or shall be divided
|By any voice or order of the field?
|Hector bade ask.
|Which way would Hector have it?
|He cares not; he'll obey conditions.
|'Tis done like Hector; but securely done,
|A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
|The knight opposed.
|If not Achilles, sir,
|What is your name?
|If not Achilles, nothing.
|Therefore Achilles: but, whate'er, know this:
|In the extremity of great and little,
|Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
|The one almost as infinite as all,
|The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well,
|And that which looks like pride is courtesy.
|This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood:
|In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;
|Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek
|This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
|A maiden battle, then? O, I perceive you.
|Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight,
|Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord AEneas
|Consent upon the order of their fight,
|So be it; either to the uttermost,
|Or else a breath: the combatants being kin
|Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
|[AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists]
|They are opposed already.
|What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
|The youngest son of Priam, a true knight,
|Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word,
|Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue;
|Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calm'd:
|His heart and hand both open and both free;
|For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows;
|Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
|Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath;
|Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
|For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes
|To tender objects, but he in heat of action
|Is more vindicative than jealous love:
|They call him Troilus, and on him erect
|A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
|Thus says AEneas; one that knows the youth
|Even to his inches, and with private soul
|Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
|[Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight]
|They are in action.
|Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
|Hector, thou sleep'st;
|His blows are well disposed: there, Ajax!
|You must no more.
|Princes, enough, so please you.
|I am not warm yet; let us fight again.
|As Hector pleases.
|Why, then will I no more:
|Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
|A cousin-german to great Priam's seed;
|The obligation of our blood forbids
|A gory emulation 'twixt us twain:
|Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so
|That thou couldst say 'This hand is Grecian all,
|And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
|All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
|Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister
|Bounds in my father's;' by Jove multipotent,
|Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member
|Wherein my sword had not impressure made
|Of our rank feud: but the just gods gainsay
|That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother,
|My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
|Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
|By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms;
|Hector would have them fall upon him thus:
|Cousin, all honour to thee!
|I thank thee, Hector
|Thou art too gentle and too free a man:
|I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
|A great addition earned in thy death.
|Not Neoptolemus so mirable,
|On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st Oyes
|Cries 'This is he,' could promise to himself
|A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
|There is expectance here from both the sides,
|What further you will do.
|We'll answer it;
|The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell.
|If I might in entreaties find success--
|As seld I have the chance--I would desire
|My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
|'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles
|Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.
|AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me,
|And signify this loving interview
|To the expecters of our Trojan part;
|Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin;
|I will go eat with thee and see your knights.
|Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
|The worthiest of them tell me name by name;
|But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes
|Shall find him by his large and portly size.
|Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one
|That would be rid of such an enemy;
|But that's no welcome: understand more clear,
|What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks
|And formless ruin of oblivion;
|But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
|Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
|Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
|From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
|I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
|[To TROILUS] My well-famed lord of Troy, no
|less to you.
|Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting:
|You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
|Who must we answer?
|The noble Menelaus.
|O, you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks!
|Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath;
|Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove:
|She's well, but bade me not commend her to you.
|Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme.
|O, pardon; I offend.
|I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft
|Labouring for destiny make cruel way
|Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee,
|As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
|Despising many forfeits and subduements,
|When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air,
|Not letting it decline on the declined,
|That I have said to some my standers by
|'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!'
|And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath,
|When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in,
|Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seen;
|But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
|I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire,
|And once fought with him: he was a soldier good;
|But, by great Mars, the captain of us all,
|Never saw like thee. Let an old man embrace thee;
|And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
|'Tis the old Nestor.
|Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
|That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:
|Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
|I would my arms could match thee in contention,
|As they contend with thee in courtesy.
|I would they could.
|By this white beard, I'ld fight with thee to-morrow.
|Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.
|I wonder now how yonder city stands
|When we have here her base and pillar by us.
|I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well.
|Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
|Since first I saw yourself and Diomed
|In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
|Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue:
|My prophecy is but half his journey yet;
|For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
|Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
|Must kiss their own feet.
|I must not believe you:
|There they stand yet, and modestly I think,
|The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
|A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all,
|And that old common arbitrator, Time,
|Will one day end it.
|So to him we leave it.
|Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome:
|After the general, I beseech you next
|To feast with me and see me at my tent.
|I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou!
|Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
|I have with exact view perused thee, Hector,
|And quoted joint by joint.
|Is this Achilles?
|I am Achilles.
|Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee.
|Behold thy fill.
|Nay, I have done already.
|Thou art too brief: I will the second time,
|As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
|O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er;
|But there's more in me than thou understand'st.
|Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
|Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body
|Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there?
|That I may give the local wound a name
|And make distinct the very breach whereout
|Hector's great spirit flew: answer me, heavens!
|It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
|To answer such a question: stand again:
|Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly
|As to prenominate in nice conjecture
|Where thou wilt hit me dead?
|I tell thee, yea.
|Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,
|I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well;
|For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;
|But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,
|I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.
|You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag;
|His insolence draws folly from my lips;
|But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
|Or may I never--
|Do not chafe thee, cousin:
|And you, Achilles, let these threats alone,
|Till accident or purpose bring you to't:
|You may have every day enough of Hector
|If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
|Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.
|I pray you, let us see you in the field:
|We have had pelting wars, since you refused
|The Grecians' cause.
|Dost thou entreat me, Hector?
|To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;
|To-night all friends.
|Thy hand upon that match.
|First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent;
|There in the full convive we: afterwards,
|As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
|Concur together, severally entreat him.
|Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow,
|That this great soldier may his welcome know.
|[Exeunt all except TROILUS and ULYSSES]
|My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
|In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
|At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
|There Diomed doth feast with him to-night;
|Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth,
|But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
|On the fair Cressid.
|Shall sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
|After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
|To bring me thither?
|You shall command me, sir.
|As gentle tell me, of what honour was
|This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there
|That wails her absence?
|O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars
|A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
|She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth:
|But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.