ULYSSES

Agamemnon. Thou great Commander, Nerve, and Bone of Greece, Heart of our Numbers, soul, and only spirit, In whom the tempers, and the minds of all Should be shut up: Hear what Ulysses speaks, Beside the applause and approbation The which most mighty for thy place and sway, And thou most reverend for thy stretched-out life, I give to both your speeches: which were such, As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Should hold up high in Brass: and such again As venerable Nestor (hatched in Silver) Should with a bound of air, strong as the Axletree In which the Heavens ride, knit all Greeks ears To his experienced tongue: yet let it please both (Thou Great, and Wise) to hear Ulysses speak. The great Achilles, whom Opinion crowns, The sinew, and the forehand of our Host, Having his ear full of his ayery Fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his Tent Lies mocking our designs. With him, Patroclus, Upon a lazy Bed, the livelong day Breaks scurrill Jests, And with ridiculous and awkward Actium, (Which Slanderer, he imitation call's) He Pageants us. Sometime great Agamemnon, Thy topless deputation he puts on; And Like a strutting Player, whose conceit Lies in his Hamstring, and does think it rich To hear the wooden Dialogue and found betwixt his stretched footing, and the Scaffolage, Such to be pitied, and over-rested seeming He acts thy Greatness in: and when he speaks, It's Like a Chime a mending. With terms unsquared, Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped, Would seems Hyperboles. At this fusty stuff, The large Achilles (on his prest-bed lolling) From his deep Chest, laughs out a loud applause, Cries excellent, it's Agamemnon joust. Now play me Nestor ; hum, and stroke thy Beard As he, being dressed to some Oration: That's done, as near as the extremest ends Of parallels; as Like, as Vulcan and his wife, Yet God Achilles still cries excellent, It's Nestor right. Now play him (me) Patroclus, Arming to answer in a night-Alarme, And then (forsooth) the faint defects of Age Must be the Scene of mirth, to cough, and spit, And with a palsy fumbling on his Gorget, Shake in and out the Rivet: and at this sport Sir Valour die; cries, Oh enough Patroclus, Or, give me ribs of Steel, I shall split all In pleasure of my Spleen. And in this fashion, All our abilities, gifts, nature's, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, order, preventions, Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, Success or lose, what is, or is not, serves As stuff for these two, to make paradoxes. They tax our policy, and call it Cowardice, Count Wisdom as no member of the War, Forestall prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand: The still and mental parts, That do contrive how many hands shall strike When fitness call them on, and know by measure Of their observant toil, the Enemies weight, Why this hath not a singers dignity: They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Closset-Warre: So that the Ram that batters down the wall, For the great swing and rudeness of his poize, They place before his hand that made the Engine, Or those that with the fineness of their souls, By Reason guide his execution. Amen. Nestor. I have a young conception in my brain, Be you my time to bring it to some shape. Give pardon to my speech: Therefore it's meet, Achilles meet not Hector : Let us (Like Merchant's) show our foulest Wares, And think perchance they'll fell: If not, The luster of the better yet to show, Shall show the better. Do not consent, That ever Hector and Achilles meet: For both our Honour, and our Shame in this, Are dogged with two strange Followers. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, (Were he not proud) we all should wear with him: But he already is too insolent, And we were better parch in Africa Sun, Then in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes Should he escape Hector fair. If he were foiled, Why then we did our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a Lottery, And by device let blockish Ajax draw The sort to sighed with Hector : Among our selves, Give him allowance as the worthier man, For that will physic the great Myrmidon Who broils in loud applause, and make him fallen His Crest, that prouder then blue Iris bends. If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail, Yet go we under our opinion still, That we have better men. But hit or miss, Our projects life this shape of sense assumes, Ajax employed, plucks down Achilles Plumes. I wonder now, how yonder City stands, When we have here her Base and pillar by us. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue, My prophesy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls that pertly front your Town, Yond Towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet. So to him we leave it. Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome; After the General, I beseech you next To Feast with me, and see me at my Tent. You shall command me sir: As gentle tell me, of what Honour was This Cressida in Troy, had she no Lover there That wails her absence? Here comes himself to guide you? Troy yet upon his basis had be down, And the great Hector's sword had lacked a Master But for these instances. The specialty of Rule hath been neglected; And look how many Grecian Tents do stand Hollow upon this Plain, so many hollow Factions. When that the General is not Like the Hive, To whom the Foragers shall all repair, What Honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, the unworthiest shows as fairly in the Mask. The Heavens themselves, the Planets, and this Centre, Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of Order: And therefore is the glorious Planet Solemnizing In noble eminence, enthroned and sphered Amidst the other, whose medicinable eye Corrects the ill Aspects of Planets evil, And posts Like the Commandment of a King, Sans check, to good and bade. But when the Planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What Plagues, and what portents, what mutiny? What raging of the Sea? shaking of Earth? Commotion in the Winds? Frights, changes, horrors, Divert, and crack, rend and deracinate The unity, and married calm of States Quite from their fixure? Oh, when Degree is shaked, (Which is the Ladder to all high designs) The enterprise is sick. How could Communities, Degrees in Schools, and Brotherhoods in Cities, Peaceful Commerce from dividable shores, The primogenitive, and endue of Birth, Prerogative of Age, Crowns, Sceptres, Laurels (But by Degree) stand in Authentic place? Take but Degree away, vn-tune that string, And hark what Discord follows: each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. The bounded Waters, Should lift their bosoms higher then the Shores, And make a sop of all this solid Globe: Strength should be Lord of imbecility, And the rude Son should strike his Father dead: Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong, (Between whose endless jar, Justice recides) Should lose her names, and so should Justice too. Then every thing includes it self in Power, Power into Will, Will into Appetite, And Appetite (and universal Wolf, So doubly seconded with Will, and Power) Must make perforce and universal prey, And last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon : This Chaos, when Degree is suffocated, Follows the choking: And this neglection of Degree, is it That by a pace goes backward in a purpose It hath to climb. The General's disdained By him one step below; he, by the next, That next, by him beneath: so every step Exampled by the first pace that is sick Of his Superior, grows to and envious Fever Of pale, and bloodless Emulation. And it's this Fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, How ever it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles. And wake him to the answer, think you? At Menelaus Tent, most Princely Troilus, There Diomed does feast with him to night, Who neither looks on heaven, nor on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid. Follow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent, I'll keep you company. This it's: Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded Pride That hath to this maturity blown up In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped, Or shedding breed a Nursery of Like evil To ouer-bulke us all. We saw him at the opening of his Tent, He is not sick. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. A would have ten shares. If he were proud. I my good Son. I do not strain it at the position, It is familiar; but at the Authors drift, Who in his circumstance, expressly proves That no may is the Lord of any thing, (Though in and of him there is much consisting,) Till he communicate his parts to others: Nor does he of himself know them for ought, Till he behold them formed in the applause, Where they are extended: who Like and arch reverberate The voice again; or Like a gate of steel, Fronting the Sun, receives and renders back His figure, and his heat. I was much rapt 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 deer in use. What things again most deer in the esteem, And poor in worth: now shall we see to morrow, And act that very chance does throw upon him? Ajax renowned? Oh heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do! How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall, While others play the Idiots in her eyes: How one man eats into another's pride, While pride is feasting 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 shrinking. 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 passed, Which are devoured as fast as they are made, Forgotten as soon as done: perseverance, deer my Lord, Keeps honour bright, to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, Like a rusty male, In monumental mockrie: take the instant way, For honour travels in a straight so narrow, Where one but goes a breast, 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 forth right; Like to and entered Tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost: Or Like a gallant Horse fallen in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject, near Overrun and trampled on: then what they do in present, Though less then yours in passed, must ore-top yours: For time is Like a fashionable Host, That slightly shakes his parting Guest by the hand; And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, Grasps in the commer: the welcome ever smiles, And farewells goes out sighing: Oh let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was: for beauty, wit, High birth, vigor 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 gaudes, Though they are made and moulded of things passed, And go to dust, that is a little gilded, More laud then gilded over dusted. The present eye praises the pres nt object: Then marvel not thou great and complete man, That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ; Since things in motion begin to catch the eye, Then what not sti S: the cry went out on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thy self alive, And case thy reputation in thy Tent; Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, Made emulous missions amongst the gods themselves, And drove great Mars to faction. Is that a wonder? The providence that's in a watchful State, Knows almost every grain of Pluto's gold; Finds bottom in the vncomprehensiue deeps; Keeps place with thought; and almost Like the gods, Do thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles: There is a mystery (with whom relation Durst never meddle) in the soul of State; Which hath and operation more divine, Then breath or pen can give expressure to: All the commerse 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 then Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pirhus now at home, When fame shall in her Hand found 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 over the Ice that you should break. Yet is the kindness but particular; 'twere bet ter she were kissed in general. I do desire it. Neuer's my day, and then a kiss of you. How now Trojan? Why, how now Lord? Al's done my Lord. O, courage, courage Princes: great Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance; Patroclus wounds have roused his drowzy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, That noseless, handless, hacked and chipt, come to him; Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend, And foams at mouth, and he is armed, and at it: Roaring for Troilus ; who hath done to day. Mad and fantastic execution; Engaging and redeeming of himself, With such a careless force, and forceless care, As if that luck in very spite of cunning, bade him win all. Achillis hath inveigled his Fool from him. He. No, you see he is his argument that has his argu meant Achilles. The amity that wisdom knits, not folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. The Elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: His leg are legs for necessity, not for slight. Achilles will not to the field to morrow. He does rely on none, But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar, and in self admission. Things small as nothing, for requests sake only He makes important; possessed he is with greatness, And speaks not to himself, but with a pride That quarrels at selfe-breath. Imagined wrath Holds in his blood such swollen and hight discourse, That betwixt his mental and his active parts, Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages, And batters gainst it self; what should I say? He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it, Cry no recovery. Oh Agamemnon, let it not be so. Weel 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 and Idol, more then he? No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord, Must not so staule his Palm, nobly acquired, Nor by my will assubingate 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 Hiperjon. This L. go to him? Jupiter forbid, And say in thunder, Achilles go to him. The Raven chides blackness. Wit would be out of fashion. My L. you feed too much on this dislike. Why, it's this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man, but it's before his face, I will be silent. 'Know the whole world, he is as valiant. There is no tarrying here, the Heart Achilles Keeps thicker: please it our General, To call together all his state of war, Fresh Kings are come to Troy ; to morrow 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. Achilles stands in that entrance of his Tent; Please it our General to pass strangely by him, As if he were forgotten: and Princes all, Lay negligent and lose regard upon him; I will come last, it's Like heel question me, Why such vnpla sive eyes are bent? why turned 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 do good, pride hath no other glass To show it self, but pride: for supple knees, Feed arrogance, and are the proud men fees. Now great Thetis Son. 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. But against your privacy The reasons are more potent and heroical: It's known Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters. No Trumpet answers. It's he, I ken the manner of his gate, He rises on the toe: that spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth. O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns, For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns. It were no match, your nail against his horn: May I sweet Lady beg a kiss of you? Why then for Venus sake, give me a kiss: When Hellen is a maid again, and his— Fie, fie, upon her: Ther's a language in her eye, her cheek, her lip; Nay, her foot speaks, her wanton spirits look out At every joint, and motive of her body: O these encounterers so glib of tongue, That give a coasting welcome eat it comes; And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts, To every tickling reader: set them down, For sluttish spoils of opportunity; And daughters of the game. They are opposed already. The youngest Son of Priam ; A true Knight; they call him Troilus ; Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, Speaking in deeds, and deedelesse in his tongue; Not soon provoked, nor being provoked, soon calmed; His heart and hand both open, and both free: For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shows; Yet gives he not till judgement guide his bounty, Nor dignifies and impair thought with breath: Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes To tender objects; but he, in heat of Actium, Is more vindecatiue then jealous love. They call him Troilus ; and on him erect, A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. Thus says Aeneas, one that knows the youth, Even to his inches: and with private soul, Did in great Illion thus translate him to me. Stand where the Torch may not discover us. She will sing any man at first sighed. List? You are moved Prince, let us depart I pray you, Lest your displeasure should enlarge it self To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; The time right deadly: I beseech you go. Nay, good my Lord go off: You flow to great distraction; come my Lord? You have not patience, come. You shake my Lord at something; will you go? you will break out. Come, come. You have sworn patience. My Lord. Why stay we then? I cannot conjure Trojan. Most sure she was. Nor mine my Lord: Cressid was here but now. What hath she done Prince, that can soil our mother's? May worthy Troilus be half attached With that which here his passion does express? Oh contain your self: Your passion draws ears hither. I, or surley born. Thank the heavens L. thou art of sweet composure; Praise him that God thee, she that gave thee suck: Fame by thy Tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice famed beyond, beyond all erudition; But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, Let Mars divide Eternity in twain, And give him half, and for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo : his addition yield To sinnowie 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. I'll bring you to the Gates.