TROILUS & CRESSIDA - William Shakespeare

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[Aside.] An ‘twould, you’d carry half.

       ULYSSES.

       [Aside.] ‘A would have ten shares.

       AJAX.

       I will knead him, I’ll make him supple.

       NESTOR. [Aside.] 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 palter with us thus!

       Would he were a Troyan!

       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 gat thee, she that gave thee suck;

       Fam’d be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature

       Thrice-fam’d beyond, beyond all erudition;

       But he that disciplin’d thine 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;

       But 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 rul’d 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. Tomorrow

       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.]

       Table of Contents

      SCENE 1. Troy. PRIAM’S palace

       [Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT.]

       PANDARUS.

       Friend, you—pray you, a word. Do you not 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 notable 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.

       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 is 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 not you 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 stew’d

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