And batters ’gainst 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.

(To Ajax) 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 worshipped

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 feeze his pride.

Let me go to him.

ULYSSES

Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.

AJAX A paltry insolent fellow.

NESTOR (aside) How he describes himself!

AJAX Can he not be sociable?

ULYSSES (aside) The raven chides blackness.

AJAX I’ll let his humour’s blood.

AGAMEMNON (aside) He will be the physician that should be the patient.

AJAX An all men were o’ my mind—

ULYSSES (aside) Wit would be out of fashion.

AJAX A should not bear it so. A should eat swords first.

Shall pride carry it?

NESTOR (aside) An’t would, you’d carry half.

⌈AJAX⌉ A would have ten shares.

⌈ULYSSES⌉ (aside) I will knead him; I’ll make him supple.

He’s not yet through warm.

NESTOR (aside) Farce him with praises. Pour in, pour in!

His ambition is dry.

ULYSSES (to Agamemnon)

My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

NESTOR (to Agamemnon)

Our noble general, do not do so.

DIOMEDES (to Agamemnon)

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 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 (to Ajax)

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, beyond all erudition.

But he that disciplined 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 tempered,

You should not have the eminence of him,

But be as Ajax.

AJAX Shall I call you father?

ULYSSES

Ay, my good son.

DIOMEDES Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.

ULYSSES (to Agamemnon)

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 today 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 counsel. Let Achilles sleep.

Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw

deep. Exeunt

3.1 Music sounds within. Enter Pandarus ⌈at one door⌉ and a Servant ⌈at another door⌉

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 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 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 visible soul—