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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.

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

A gam. 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


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!

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*3;

And never surfers 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 5

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.


Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!


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

him Over the face.

Agamt O, no, you shall not go.

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

pride": Let me go to him.

Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.

Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow,

Nest. How he describes

Himself! [Aside.

Ajax. Can he not be sociable?

Ulyss. The raven

Chides blackness. [Aside.

Ajax. I will let his humours blood.

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the patient. [.Iviitc.

Ajax. An all men Were o'my mind,

Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion.


Ajat. He should not bear it so,
He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it?

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

Ulyss. He'd have ten shares.


..1/m. I'll knead him, I will make him supple:

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

praises: Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Afide.

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 thm naming of him does him


Here is a man—But 'tis before his face;
I will be silent.


Nest. Wherefore should you so?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulyst. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with

us! I would, he were a Trojan!

Nest. What a vice

Were it in Ajax now

Ulyss. If he were proud?

Dio. Or covetous of praise?

Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne?

Din. Or strange, or self-affected?

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


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.

Ajax. Shall I call you father?

Nest. Ay, my good son.

Dio. , Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulyss. 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: 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.

Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep: Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks drawdeep. [Exeunt.

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