One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,— That all, with one consent, praise new-born gauds,1 Though they are made and moulded of things past; And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'erdusted. The present eye praises the present object: If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive, Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, The reasons are more potent and heroical. 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.3 Ach. Ulys. Is that a wonder? Ha! known? The providence, that's in a watchful state, 1 New-fashioned toys. 2 Caused the gods themselves to enlist among the combatants. 3 i. e. Polyxena. 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 But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, 1 A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loathed than an effeminate man 1 Friend. And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. Ach. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? Pat. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honor by him. Ach. I see, my reputation is at stake; My fame is shrewdly gored. Pat. O, then beware: Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves. Seals a commission to a blank of danger; Ach. Go, call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing, To see great Hector in his weeds of Enter THERSITES. Ther. A wonder! Ach. What? Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself. Ach. How so? Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. Ach. How can that be? Ther. 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,1 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 for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he 'll break it 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 is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. Ach. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence: let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. Ach. 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 magnani 1 With a sly look. mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honored captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this. Pat. Jove bless great Ajax. Ther. Humph! Pat. I come from the worthy Achilles, Ther. Ha! Pat. Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent ; Ther. Humph! Pat. And to procure safe conduct from Agamem non. Ther. Agamemnon? Pat. Ay, my lord. Ther. Ha! Pat. What say you to 't? Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart. Pat. Your answer, sir. Ther. 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. Pat. Your answer, sir. Ther. Fare well, with all Ach. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. 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. 1 Catlings are small lute-strings made of catgut. |