by John Dryden
Their peaceful heads nor storm nor thunder know,
But scorn the threatening rack that rolls below.[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Achilles and Patroclus standing in their tent. — Ulysses Agamemnon, Menelaus, Nestor, and Ajax, passing over the stage.
Ulys. 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,
Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn:
Pride must be cured by pride.
Agam. We’ll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each prince; either salute him not,
Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more
Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.
Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me?
You know my mind; I’ll fight no more with Troy.
Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught with us?
Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
Achil. No.
Nest. Nothing, my lord.
Agam. The better.
Menel. How do you, how do you?
Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me!
Ajax. How now, Patroclus?
Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.
Ajax. Ha!
Achil. Good morrow.
Ajax. Ay; and good next day too. [Exeunt all but Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil. What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?
Patro. They pass by strangely; they were used to bow,
And send their smiles before them to Achilles;
To come as humbly as they used to creep
To holy altars.
Achil. Am I poor of late?
’Tis certain, greatness, once fallen 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.
Patro. ’Tis known you are in love with Hector’s sister,
And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting
Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you,
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,
In time of action: I am condemned for this:
They think my little appetite to war
Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,
And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;
Or, like a dew-drop from a lion’s mane,
Be shaken into air.
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
Patro. Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.
Achil. I see my reputation is at stake.
Patro. O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men
Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.
Achil. I’ll do something;
But what I know not yet. — No more; our champion.
Re-enter Ajax, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomede, Trumpet.
Agam. Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax.
Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,
Thou noble champion, that the sounding air
May pierce the ears of the great challenger,
And call him hither.
Ajax. Trumpet, take that purse:
Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass;
Thou blow’st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within.
Enter Hector, Æneas, and other Trojans.
Agam. Yonder comes the troop.
Æn. [Coming to the Greeks.]
Health to the Grecian lords: — What shall be done
To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose
A victor should 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.
Agam. Which way would Hector have it?
Æn. He cares not, he’ll obey conditions.
Achil. ’Tis done like Hector, but securely done;
A little proudly, and too much despising
The knight opposed; he might have found his match.
Æn. If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?
Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.
Æn. Therefore Achilles; but whoe’er, know this;
Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but 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.
Achil. A maiden battle? I perceive you then.
Agam. Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax;
As you and lord Æneas shall consent,
So let the fight proceed, or terminate. [The trumpets sound on both sides, while Æneas and Diomede take their places, as Judges of the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank themselves on either side.
Ulys. They are opposed already. [Fight equal at first, then Ajax has Hector at disadvantage; at last Hector closes, Ajax falls on one knee, Hector stands over him, but strikes not, and Ajax rises.
Æn. [Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them.]
Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.
Diom. And we, as judges of the field, declare,
The combat here shall cease.
Ajax, I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Æn. Then let it be as Hector shall determine.
Hect. If it be left to me, I will no more. —
Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione’s son;
The obligation of our blood forbids us.
But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so,
That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan, — hence thou shouldst not bear
One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword
Had not impression made. But heaven forbid
That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother,
Should e’er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin.
By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms:
Hector would have them fall upon him thus: — [Embrace.
Thine be the honour, Ajax.
Ajax. I thank thee, Hector;
Thou art too gentle, and too free a man.
I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain
A great addition from that glorious act:
But thou hast quite disarmed me.
Hect. I am glad;
For ’tis the only way I could disarm thee.
Ajax. If I might in intreaty find success,
I would desire to see thee at my tent.
Diom. ’Tis Agamemnon’s wish, and great Achilles;
Both long to see the valiant Hector there.
Hect. Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me;
And you two sign this friendly interview. [Agamemnon, and the chief of both sides approach.
Agam. [To Hect.] Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one,
Who would be rid of such an enemy. —
[To Troil.] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often,
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee
As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed,
And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives,
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i’ th’ air,
Not letting it decline on prostrate foes;
That I have said to all the standers-by,
Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.
Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
Who hast so long wal
ked hand in hand with time:
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Ulys. I wonder now, how yonder city stands,
When we have here her base and pillar by us.
Hect. I know your count’nance, lord Ulysses, well.
Ah, sir, there’s many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Since first I saw yourself and Diomede
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
Achil. Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
I have with exact view perused thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.
Hect. Is this Achilles?
Achil. I am Achilles.
Hect. Stand fair, I pr’ythee, let me look on thee.
Achil. Behold thy fill.
Hect. Nay, I have done already.
Achil. Thou art too brief. I will, the second time,
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
Hect. O, like a book of sport, thou read’st me o’er;
But there’s more in me than thou understand’st.
Achil. Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there?
That I may give the imagined wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hector’s great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!
Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me this,
I’d not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well,
I’ll kill thee every where.
Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast;
His insolence draws folly from my lips;
But I’ll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Else may I never —
Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin; —
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone;
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.
Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field;
We have had pelting wars, since you refused
The Grecian cause.
Achil. Do’st thou entreat me, Hector?
To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death;
To-night, all peace.
Hect. Thy hand upon that match.
Agam. First, all you Grecian princes, go with me,
And entertain great Hector; afterwards,
As his own leisure shall concur with yours,
You may invite him to your several tents. [Exeunt Agam. Hect. Menel. Nest. Diom. together.
Troil. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?
Ulys. At Menelaus’ tent:
There Diomede does feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks on heaven or on earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On Cressida alone.
Troil. Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon’s tent,
To bring me thither?
Ulys. I shall wait on you.
As freely tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,
Who mourn her absence?
Troil. O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,
Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;
That’s all I must impart. Lead on, my lord. [Exeunt Ulysses and Troilus.
Achil [To Patro.] I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Enter Thersites.
Patro. Here comes Thersites.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy,
Thou crusty batch of nature, what’s the news?
Thers. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot worshippers, there’s a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Thers. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Patro. Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?
Thers. Because a fool’s my whetstone.
Patro. Meaning me?
Thers. Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr’ythee, be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south, gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, such diminutives of nature!
Achil. My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented
From my great purpose, bent on Hector’s life.
Here is a letter from my love Polyxena,
Both taxing and engaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it
To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay,
There’s more religion in my love than fame. [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus.
Thers. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are running mad before the dog-days. There’s Agamemnon, too, an honest fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there’s a fellow! the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother’s tail, — to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. — Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!
Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Diomede, Ulysses, Troilus, going with Torches over the Stage.
Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.
Ajax. No, yonder ’tis; there, where we see the light.
Hect. I trouble you.
Ajax. Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.
Enter Achilles.
Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.
Agam. So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands the guard to wait on you.
Men. Good night, my lord.
Hect. Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.
Thers. [Aside.] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet jakes!
Achil. Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede,
Keep Hector company an hour or two.
Diom. I cannot, sir; I have important business.
Achil. Enter, my lords.
Ulys. [To Troil.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas’s tent.
[Exeunt Achil. Hect. Ajax, one way; Diomede another; and after him Ulysses and Troilus.
Thers. This Diomede’s a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a prodigy: though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas’s tent, that fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side. I’ll after him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals!
[Exit Thersites.
Enter Calchas and Cressida.
Calch. O, what a blessing is a virtuous child!
Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions
Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy
Revives within me, and my lost tiara
No more disturbs my mind.
Cres. A virtuous conquest!
Calch. I have a woman’s longing to return;
But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.
Cres. Time must instruct us how.
Calch. You must dissemble love to Diomede still:
False Diomede, bred in Ulysses’ school,
Can never be deceived,
But by strong arts and blandishments of love.
Put them in practice all; seem lost and won,
&nb
sp; And draw him on, and give him line again.
This Argus then may close his hundred eyes,
And leave our flight more easy.
Cres. How can I answer this to love and Troilus?
Calch. Why, ’tis for him you do it; promise largely;
That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects
Was given you by a lover; let him have it.
Diom. [Within.] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!
Calch. Hark! I hear his voice.
Pursue your project; doubt not the success.
Cres. Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes,
This night to meet my Troilus, while ’tis truce,
Afford my mind some ease.
Calch. No more: retire.[Exit Cressida.
Enter Diomede: Troilus and Ulysses appear listening at one Door, and Thersites watching at another.
Diom. I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.
Calch. My lord, I’ll call her to you.[Exit Calchas.
Ulys. [To Troil.] Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Enter Cressida.
Troil. Cressida comes forth to him!
Diom. How now, my charge?
Cres. Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you.[Whisper.
Troil. Ay, so familiar!
Diom. Will you remember?
Cres. Remember? yes.
Troil. Heavens, what should she remember! Plague and madness!
Ulys. Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.
Troil. I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell’s torments, I will not speak a word.
Diom. I’ll hear no more: good night.
Cres. Nay, but you part in anger!
Troil. Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!
Diom. Farewell, cozener.
Cres. Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.
Ulys. You shake, my lord, at something: will you go?
You will break out.
Troil. By all the gods I will not.
There is, between my will and all my actions,
A guard of patience: stay a little while.
Thers. [aside.] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potato-finger, tickles these together! — Put him off a little, you foolish harlot! ‘twill sharpen him the more.
Diom. But will you then?
Cres. I will, as soon as e’er the war’s concluded.
Diom Give me some token, for the surety of it;
The ring I saw you wear.
Cres. [Giving it.] If you must have it.
Troil. The ring? nay, then, ’tis plain! O beauty, where’s thy faith!
Ulys. You have sworn patience.
Thers. That’s well, that’s well, the pledge is given; hold her to her word, good devil, and her soul’s thine, I warrant thee.