Troilus and Cressida

upon our fair request
Untent his person and share the air with us? Ulysses

Things small as nothing, for request’s sake only,
He makes important: possess’d he is with greatness,
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
Kingdom’d 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.”

Agamemnon

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.

Ulysses

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 worshipp’d
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,
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 say in thunder “Achilles go to him.”

Nestor Aside to Diomedes. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. Diomedes Aside to Nestor. And how his silence drinks up this applause! Ajax

If I go to him, with my armed fist
I’ll pash him o’er the face.

Agamemnon O, no, you shall not go. Ajax

An a’ be proud with me, I’ll pheeze his pride:
Let me go to him.

Ulysses Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. Ajax A paltry, insolent fellow! Nestor How he describes himself! Ajax Can he not be sociable? Ulysses The raven chides blackness. Ajax I’ll let his humours blood. Agamemnon He will be the physician that should be the patient. Ajax An all men were o’ my mind⁠— Ulysses Wit would be out of fashion. Ajax A’ should not bear it so, a’ should eat swords first: shall pride carry it? Nestor An ’twould, you’ld carry half. Ulysses A’ would have ten shares. Ajax I will knead him; I’ll make him supple. Nestor He’s not yet through warm: force him with praises: pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. Ulysses To Agamemnon. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. Nestor Our noble general, do not do so. Diomedes You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulysses

Why, ’tis this naming of him does him harm.
Here is a man⁠—but ’tis before his face;
I will be silent.

Nestor

Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulysses Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax

A whoreson dog, that shall pelter thus with us!
Would he were a Trojan!

Nestor What a vice were it in Ajax now⁠— Ulysses If he were proud⁠— Diomedes Or covetous of praise⁠— Ulysses Ay, or surly borne⁠— Diomedes Or strange, or self-affected! Ulysses

Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:
Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice famed, beyond all erudition:
But he that disciplined thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts: here’s Nestor;
Instructed by the antiquary times,
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:
Put pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax’ and your brain so temper’d,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

Ajax Shall I call you father? Nestor Ay, my good son. Diomedes Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax. Ulysses

There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here’s a lord⁠—come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.

Agamemnon

Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. Exeunt.

Act III

Scene I

Troy. Priam’s palace.

	Enter a Servant and Pandarus.
Pandarus	Friend, you! pray you, a word: do not you follow the young Lord Paris?
Servant	Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
Pandarus	You depend upon him, I mean?
Servant	Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pandarus	You depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs praise him.
Servant	The lord be praised!
Pandarus	You know me, do you not?
Servant	Faith, sir, superficially.
Pandarus	Friend, know me better; I am the Lord Pandarus.
Servant	I hope I shall know your honour better.
Pandarus	I do desire it.
Servant	You are in the state of grace.
Pandarus	Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. Music within. What music is this?
Servant	I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts.
Pandarus	Know you the musicians?
Servant	Wholly, sir.
Pandarus	Who play they to?
Servant	To the hearers, sir.
Pandarus	At whose pleasure, friend
Servant	At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
Pandarus	Command, I mean, friend.
Servant	Who shall I command, sir?
Pandarus	Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?
Servant	That’s to’t indeed, sir: marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who’s there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love’s invisible soul⁠—
Pandarus	Who, my cousin Cressida?
Servant	No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her attributes?
Pandarus	It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes.
Servant	Sodden business! there’s a stewed phrase indeed!
	Enter Paris and Helen, attended.
Pandarus	Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide