TROILUS & CRESSIDA. William Shakespeare
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do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit
Out of those many regist’red in promise,
Which you say live to come in my behalf.
AGAMEMNON.
What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand.
CALCHAS.
You have a Troyan prisoner call’d Antenor,
Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you—often have you thanks therefore—
Desir’d my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs
That their negotiations all must slack
Wanting his manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
In change of him. Let him be sent, great Princes,
And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done
In most accepted pain.
AGAMEMNON.
Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither. Calchas shall have
What he requests of us. Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange;
Withal, bring word if Hector will tomorrow
Be answer’d in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
DIOMEDES.
This shall I undertake; and ‘tis a burden
Which I am proud to bear.
[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS.]
[ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent.]
ULYSSES.
Achilles stands i’ th’ entrance of his tent.
Please it our general pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and, Princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last. ‘Tis like he’ll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn’d on him?
If so, I have derision med’cinable
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 itself but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance and are the proud man’s fees.
AGAMEMNON.
We’ll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along.
So do each lord; and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look’d on. I will lead the way.
ACHILLES.
What comes the general to speak with me?
You know my mind. I’ll fight no more ‘gainst Troy.
AGAMEMNON.
What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?
NESTOR.
Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
ACHILLES.
No.
NESTOR.
Nothing, my lord.
AGAMEMNON.
The better.
[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR.]
ACHILLES.
Good day, good day.
MENELAUS.
How do you? How do you?
[Exit.]
ACHILLES.
What, does the cuckold scorn me?
AJAX.
How now, Patroclus?
ACHILLES.
Good morrow, Ajax.
AJAX.
Ha?
ACHILLES.
Good morrow.
AJAX.
Ay, and good next day too.
[Exit.]
ACHILLES.
What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?
PATROCLUS.
They pass by strangely. They were us’d to bend,
To send their smiles before them to Achilles,
To come as humbly as they us’d to creep
To holy altars.
ACHILLES.
What, am I poor of late?
‘Tis certain, greatness, once fall’n out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too. What the declin’d is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer;
And not a man for being simply man
Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, and favour,
Prizes of accident, as oft as merit;
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean’d on them as slippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But ‘tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess
Save these men’s looks; who do, methinks, find out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses.
I’ll interrupt his reading.
How now, Ulysses!
ULYSSES.
Now, great Thetis’ son!
ACHILLES.
What are you reading?
ULYSSES.
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.
ACHILLES.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others’ eyes; nor doth the eye itself—
That most pure spirit of sense—behold itself,
Not going from