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

Ajar. 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.
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

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 (liscourse,
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 inakes
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. Ajar. If I go to him, with my arm’d fist I'll pash

him Over the face.

Agam. O, no, you shall not go.

Ajar. 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. Ajar. A paltry, insolent fellow,

Nest. How he describes Himself!

[Aside. Ajar. Can he not be sociable ?

Ulyss. The raven Chides blackness.

[Aside. Ajar. I will let his humours blood. Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the patient.

[Aside. Ajar. An all men Were o’my mind,

Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [ Aside.

Ajar. He should not bear it so,
He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it ?
Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half.

[.4side. Ulyss. He'd have ten shares.

[Aside. Ajar. I'll knead him, I will make bim 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. O 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; I will be silent.

Nest. Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

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

Ajar. 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?
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 will 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


father? Nest. Ay, my good son. Dio. Be ruld 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 slate 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 draw deep.


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