His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,
That, if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report-
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant:-Tell him so.
Patr. I shall; and bring his answer presently.

[Exit.

Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him-Ulysses, enter. [Exit Ulysses.

Ajax. What is he more than another?
Agam. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am?

Agam. No question.

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say—

he is?

Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is.

Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange?

Re-enter ULYSSES.

[Aside.

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Agam. What's his excuse?

Ulyss.

He doth rely on none;

But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Untent his person, and share the air with us?

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake

only,

He makes important: Possess'd he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth

Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself: What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry No recovery.

Agam.

Let Ajax go to him.

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.
Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so!

23

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 worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice-worthy and right-valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
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.

Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

[Aside.

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!

[Aside.

Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash him

Over the face.

Agam.

O, no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride 24:

Let me go to him.

Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our

quarrel.

Ajax.

[Aside.

I will let his humours blood.

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the pa

He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it?

Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half.

Ulyss.

[Aside.

He'd have ten shares.

[Aside.

Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple :

Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises:

Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

[Aside.

Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

To Agamemnon.

Nest. Our noble general, do not do so.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm.

Here is a man-But 'tis before his face;

Nest.

Wherefore should you so?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected?

Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet

composure;

Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:

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

Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition:
But he that disciplin'd 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 sinewy Ajax. I'll 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.