Success or loss, what is or is not, serves
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.
NESTOR.
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
As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him;
Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war
Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites,
A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,
To match us in comparisons with dirt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How rank soever rounded in with danger.
ULYSSES.
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 calls them on, and know, by measure
Of their observant toil, the enemies’ weight—
Why, this hath not a finger’s dignity:
They call this bed-work, mapp’ry, closet-war;
So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.
NESTOR.
Let this be granted, and Achilles’ horse
Makes many Thetis’ sons.
[Tucket.]
AGAMEMNON.
What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.
MENELAUS.
From Troy.
[Enter AENEAS.]
AGAMEMNON.
What would you fore our tent?
AENEAS.
Is this great Agamemnon’s tent, I pray you?
AGAMEMNON.
Even this.
AENEAS.
May one that is a herald and a prince
Do a fair message to his kingly eyes?
AGAMEMNON.
With surety stronger than Achilles’ an
Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.
AENEAS.
Fair leave and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?
AGAMEMNON.
How?
AENEAS.
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?
AGAMEMNON.
This Troyan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.
AENEAS.
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, Aeneas,
Peace, Troyan; lay thy finger on thy lips.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If that the prais’d himself bring the praise forth;
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.
AGAMEMNON.
Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?
AENEAS.
Ay, Greek, that is my name.
AGAMEMNON.
What’s your affair, I pray you?
AENEAS.
Sir, pardon; ‘tis for Agamemnon’s ears.
AGAME
He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.
AENEAS.
Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him;
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,
To set his sense on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.
AGAMEMNON.
Speak frankly as the wind;
It is not Agamemnon’s sleeping hour.
That thou shalt know, Troyan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.
AENEAS.
Trumpet, blow loud,
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.
[Sound trumpet.]
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince called Hector-Priam is his father—
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is resty grown; he bade me take a trumpet
And to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords!
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 Troyans 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 couple in his arms;
And will tomorrow with his trumpet call
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love.
If any come, Hector shall honour him;