Document:  All > Shakespeare > Comedies > Troilus and Cressida > Act III, scene III

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CALCHAS: Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
	The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
	To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind
	That, through the sight I bear in things to love,
	I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
	Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself,
	From certain and possess'd conveniences,
	To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all
	That time, acquaintance, custom and condition
	Made tame and most familiar to my nature,
	And here, to do you service, am become
	As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:
	I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
	To give me now a little benefit,
	Out of those many register'd in promise,
	Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.

AGAMEMNON: What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.

CALCHAS: You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
	Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.
	Oft have you--often have you thanks therefore--
	Desired my Cressid in right great exchange,
	Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor,
	I know, is such a wrest in their affairs
	That their negotiations all must slack,
	Wanting his manage; and they will almost
	Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
	In change of him: let him be sent, great princes,
	And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence
	Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
	In most accepted pain.

AGAMEMNON: Let Diomedes bear him,
	And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have
	What he requests of us. Good Diomed,
	Furnish you fairly for this interchange:
	Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow
	Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready.

DIOMEDES: This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden
	Which I am proud to bear.


	[Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their tent]

ULYSSES: Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:
	Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
	As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
	Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:
	I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me
	Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him:
	If so, I have derision medicinable,
	To use between your strangeness and his pride,
	Which his own will shall have desire to drink:
	It may be good: pride hath no other glass
	To show itself but pride, for supple knees
	Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.

AGAMEMNON: We'll execute your purpose, and put on
	A form of strangeness as we pass along:
	So do each lord, and either greet him not,
	Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
	Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.

ACHILLES: What, comes the general to speak with me?
	You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.

AGAMEMNON: What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

NESTOR: Would you, my lord, aught with the general?


NESTOR: Nothing, my lord.

AGAMEMNON: The better.


ACHILLES: Good day, good day.

MENELAUS: How do you? how do you?


ACHILLES: What, does the cuckold scorn me?

AJAX: How now, Patroclus!

ACHILLES: Good morrow, Ajax.


ACHILLES: Good morrow.

AJAX: Ay, and good next day too.


ACHILLES: What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

PATROCLUS: They pass by strangely: they were used to bend
	To send their smiles before them to Achilles;
	To come as humbly as they used to creep
	To holy altars.

ACHILLES:                   What, am I poor of late?
	'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune,
	Must fall out with men too: what the declined is
	He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
	As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
	Show not their mealy wings but to the summer,
	And not a man, for being simply man,
	Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
	That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
	Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
	Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
	The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
	Do one pluck down another and together
	Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
	Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy
	At ample point all that I did possess,
	Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
	Something not worth in me such rich beholding
	As they have often given. Here is Ulysses;
	I'll interrupt his reading.
	How now Ulysses!

ULYSSES:                   Now, great Thetis' son!

ACHILLES: What are you reading?

ULYSSES: A strange fellow here
	Writes me: 'That man, how dearly ever parted,
	How much in having, or without or in,
	Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
	Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
	As when his virtues shining upon others
	Heat them and they retort that heat again
	To the first giver.'

ACHILLES: This is not strange, Ulysses.
	The beauty that is borne here in the face
	The bearer knows not, but commends itself
	To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself,
	That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
	Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed
	Salutes each other with each other's form;
	For speculation turns not to itself,
	Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there
	Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.

ULYSSES: I do not strain at the position,--
	It is familiar,--but at the author's drift;
	Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves
	That no man is the lord of any thing,
	Though in and of him there be much consisting,
	Till he communicate his parts to others:
	Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
	Till he behold them form'd in the applause
	Where they're extended; who, like an arch,
	The voice again, or, like a gate of steel
	Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
	His figure and his heat.  I was much wrapt in this;
	And apprehended here immediately
	The unknown Ajax.
	Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse,
	That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are
	Most abject in regard and dear in use!
	What things again most dear in the esteem
	And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow--
	An act that very chance doth throw upon him--
	Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,
	While some men leave to do!
	How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
	Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
	How one man eats into another's pride,
	While pride is fasting in his wantonness!
	To see these Grecian lords!--why, even already
	They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
	As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast
	And great Troy shrieking.

ACHILLES: I do believe it; for they pass'd by me
	As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me
	Good word nor look: what, are my deeds forgot?

ULYSSES: Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
	Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
	A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
	Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
	As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
	As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
	Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang
	Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
	In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
	For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
	Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
	For emulation hath a thousand sons
	That one by one pursue: if you give way,
	Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
	Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by
	And leave you hindmost;
	Or like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
	Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
	O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present,
	Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
	For time is like a fashionable host
	That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
	And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,
	Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,
	And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not
	virtue seek
	Remuneration for the thing it was;
	For beauty, wit,
	High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
	Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
	To envious and calumniating time.
	One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
	That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
	Though they are made and moulded of things past,
	And give to dust that is a little gilt
	More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
	The present eye praises the present object.
	Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
	That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
	Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
	Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
	And still it might, and yet it may again,
	If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive
	And case thy reputation in thy tent;
	Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
	Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves
	And drave great Mars to faction.

ACHILLES: Of this my privacy
	I have strong reasons.

ULYSSES: But 'gainst your privacy
	The reasons are more potent and heroical:
	'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
	With one of Priam's daughters.

ACHILLES: Ha! known!

ULYSSES: Is that a wonder?
	The providence that's in a watchful state
	Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold,
	Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps,
	Keeps place with thought and almost, like the gods,
	Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
	There is a mystery--with whom relation
	Durst never meddle--in the soul of state;
	Which hath an operation more divine
	Than breath or pen can give expressure to:
	All the commerce that you have had with Troy
	As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;
	And better would it fit Achilles much
	To throw down Hector than Polyxena:
	But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
	When fame shall in our islands sound her trump,
	And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
	'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
	But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.'
	Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
	The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.


PATROCLUS: To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
	A woman impudent and mannish grown
	Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
	In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
	They think my little stomach to the war
	And your great love to me restrains you thus:
	Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
	Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
	And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
	Be shook to air.

ACHILLES:                   Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

PATROCLUS: Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.

ACHILLES: I see my reputation is at stake
	My fame is shrewdly gored.

PATROCLUS: O, then, beware;
	Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
	Omission to do what is necessary
	Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
	And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
	Even then when we sit idly in the sun.

ACHILLES: Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus:
	I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him
	To invite the Trojan lords after the combat
	To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing,
	An appetite that I am sick withal,
	To see great Hector in his weeds of peace,
	To talk with him and to behold his visage,
	Even to my full of view.


		   A labour saved!

THERSITES: A wonder!


THERSITES: Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.


THERSITES: He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so
	prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he
	raves in saying nothing.

ACHILLES: How can that be?

THERSITES: Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock,--a stride
	and a stand: ruminates like an hostess that hath no
	arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning:
	bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should
	say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out;'
	and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire
	in a flint, which will not show without knocking.
	The man's undone forever; for if Hector break not his
	neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in
	vain-glory. He knows not me: I said 'Good morrow,
	Ajax;' and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think
	you of this man that takes me for the general? He's
	grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster.
	A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both
	sides, like a leather jerkin.

ACHILLES: Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

THERSITES: Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not
	answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his
	tongue in's arms. I will put on his presence: let
	Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the
	pageant of Ajax.

ACHILLES: To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the
	valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector
	to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure
	safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous
	and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honoured
	captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon,
	et cetera. Do this.

PATROCLUS: Jove bless great Ajax!


PATROCLUS: I come from the worthy Achilles,--


PATROCLUS: Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,--


PATROCLUS: And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.

THERSITES: Agamemnon!

PATROCLUS: Ay, my lord.


PATROCLUS: What say you to't?

THERSITES: God b' wi' you, with all my heart.

PATROCLUS: Your answer, sir.

THERSITES: If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will
	go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me
	ere he has me.

PATROCLUS: Your answer, sir.

THERSITES: Fare you well, with all my heart.

ACHILLES: Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

THERSITES: No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in
	him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know
	not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo
	get his sinews to make catlings on.

ACHILLES: Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

THERSITES: Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more
	capable creature.

ACHILLES: My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
	And I myself see not the bottom of it.


THERSITES: Would the fountain of your mind were clear again,
	that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a
	tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance.



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