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Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. 160 Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.

Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer?

Pan. Quoth she, 'Here's but two-and-fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.' Cres. This is her question.

Pan. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two-and-fifty hairs,' quoth he, and one white: that white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my husband?' 'The forked one,' quoth he; 'pluck 't out, and give it him.' But there was such laughing, and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.

Cres. So let it now, for it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on 't.

Cres. So I do.


Pan. I'll be sworn 'tis true: he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April.

Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May.

A retreat sounded,

Pan. Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up here, and see them as they pass toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece



Cres. At your pleasure. Pan. Here, here; here's an excellent place: here we may see most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by, but

mark Troilus above the rest.

Cres. Speak not so loud.

ENEAS passes over the stage.

Pan. That's Eneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: but mark Troilus; you shall see anon. Cres. Who's that?

ANTENOR passes over.


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Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's a countenance! Is 't not a brave man?

Cres. O a brave man.

Pan. Is a' not? It does a man's heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there: there's no jesting; there's laying on; take 't off who will, as they say: there be hacks!


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Troilus! there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave
Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis
Troilus! the prince of chivalry!

Cres. Peace! for shame, peace!

Look well upon him, niece: look you how his

Pan. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus!

sword is bloodied, and his helin more hacked

than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes. O admirable youth! he ne'er saw threeand-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris Paris is dirt to him; and,

I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot.

Cres. Here come more.

Soldiers pass over.

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece. s Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cres. Well, well.

Pan. 'Well, well!' Why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and so forth, the spice and salt that season a man?

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Cres. Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man's date's out.

Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie.

Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to Pan. Swords! any thing, he cares not; an the defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these:

Cres. Be those with swords?

and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand | To find persistive constancy in men: watches.

Pan. Say one of your watches.

Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's past watching. Pan. You are such another!

Enter TROILUS's Boy.


The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love; for then the bold and coward
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin:
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
And what hath mass or matter, by itself
Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.


Nest. With due observance of thy god-like seat,

Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply you.

Pan. Where?

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Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient breast, making their way
With those of nobler bulk!

But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains


Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled,
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide
In storms of fortune; forin her ray and brightness
The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze
Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies fled under shade, why then, the thing
of courage,


As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key,
Retorts to chiding fortune.

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Fails in the promis'd largeness: checks and On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish



Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd;
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us
That we come short of our suppose so far
That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand;
Sith every action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
And that unbodied figure of the thought

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Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hector's sword had lack'da master, But for these instances.

That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you The specialty of rule hath been neglected: princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works, And think them shames? which are indeed nought else

But the protractive trials of great Jove


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,


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Divert and crack, rend and deracinate
The unity and married calm of states
Quite from their fixure! O! when degree is

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 due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark! what discord follows; each thing|



In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters
Should lift their bosoms higher than 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

Between whose endless jar justice resides,
Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Then every thing includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,

So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,

And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choking.

And this neglection of degree it is

That by a pace goes backward, in a purpose
It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd
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 an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation:



And 'tis 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.
Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.

Ajam. The nature of the sickness found,
What is the remedy?


Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks, 'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquar'd,

Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,


Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;
Cries Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just.
Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy


As he being dress'd 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!
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night alarm.'
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 dies; cries 'O! 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, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
Success or loss, what is or is not, serves
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.
Nest. And in the imitation of these twain,
Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice, many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a place


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Of their observant toil the enemies' weight,Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.

Ulyss. The great Achilles, whom opinion They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war ;


The sinew and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent

So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the

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Ene. May one, that is a herald and a prince, Do a fair message to his kingly ears?

Agam. Withsurety stronger than Achilles' arm 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general.


If there be one among the fair'st of Greece That holds his honour higher than his ease, That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,


That knows his valour, and knows not his fear, That loves his mistress more than in confession, With truant vows to her own lips he loves, And dare avow her beauty and her worth In other arms than hers,-to him this challenge. | Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, Than ever Greek did compass in his arms; And will to morrow with his trumpet call, Midway between your tents and walls of Troy, To rouse a Grecian that is true in love: If any come, Hector shall honour him ;


Ene. Fair leave and large security. How may If none, he 'll say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sunburnt, and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.
Agam. This shall be told our lovers, Lord

A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals? Agam.

Ene. Ay;

I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus.



Which is that god in office, guiding men? Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy

Are ceremonious courtiers.

Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,

Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and,
Jove's accord,

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Eneas!
Peace, Trojan! lay thy finger on thy lips.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth, 240
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth;
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure,

Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself

Ene. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Agam. What's your affair, I pray you?

Ene. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. Agam. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.

Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper

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If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love!
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he.
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now;
But if there be not in our Grecian host
One noble man that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his love, tell him from me
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn;
And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the world: his youth in flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.
Ene. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of
Ulyss. Amen.


Agam. Fair Lord Eneas, let me touch your hand;

To our pavilion shall I lead you first.
Achilles shall have word of this intent;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent:
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.

Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR. Ulyss. Nestor!

Nest. What says Ulysses?


Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. Nest. What is 't?

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Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance,

Whose grossness little characters sum up: | And, in the publication, make no strain,

But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough, will, with great speed of judg-

Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.


Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you?

Nest. Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose,

That can from Hector bring his honour off,

If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat,
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'st palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
In this wild action; for the success,
Although particular, shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general;
And in such indexes, although small pricks
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass


Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd
He that meets Hector issues from our choice;
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,
Makes merit her election, and doth boil,
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd
Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,
What heart receives from hence the conquering

To steel a strong opinion to themselves?
Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,
In no less working than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech: Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. Let us like merchants show our foulest wares, And think perchance they'll sell; if not, The lustre 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 dogg'd with two strange followers.


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360 itch.

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?

Ulyss. 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 Afric sun
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 370
Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd,
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 fight with Hector: among ourselves
Give him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will physic the great Myrmidon
Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall
His crest that prouder than 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 project's life this shape of sense assumes :
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Nest. Ulysses,

Now I begin to relish thy advice;

And I will give a taste of it forthwith


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