READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, Scene iii |
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Act I, Scene iii:
The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent
The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent
| [Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS,and others.] |
| AGAMEMNON.: |
| Princes, |
| What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks? |
| The ample proposition that hope makes |
| In all designs begun on earth below |
| Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters |
| Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, |
| As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, |
| Infects the sound pine, and diverts 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 |
| That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, |
| Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works |
| And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else |
| But the protractive trials of great Jove |
| To find persistive constancy in men; |
| 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. |
| NESTOR.: |
| With due observance of thy godlike seat, |
| Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply |
| 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 cut, |
| 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; for in 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 sympathise, |
| And with an accent tun'd in self-same key |
| Retorts to chiding fortune. |
| ULYSSES.: |
| Agamemnon, |
| Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, |
| Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit |
| In whom the tempers and the minds of all |
| Should be shut up—hear what Ulysses speaks. |
| Besides the applause and approbation |
| The which, |
| [To AGAMEMNON] |
| most mighty, for thy place and sway, |
| [To NESTOR] |
| And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life, |
| I give to both your speeches—which were such |
| As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece |
| Should hold up high in brass; and such again |
| As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, |
| Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree |
| On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears |
| To his experienc'd tongue—yet let it please both, |
| Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. |
| AGAMEMNON.: |
| Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect |
| That matter needless, of importless burden, |
| Divide thy lips than we are confident, |
| When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, |
| We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. |
| ULYSSES.: |
| Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, |
| And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, |
| But for these instances: |
| The specialty of rule hath been neglected; |
| 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, |
| Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. |
| The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, |
| Observe degree, priority, and place, |
| Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, |
| Office, and custom, in all line of order; |
| And therefore is the glorious planet Sol |
| In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd |
| Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye |
| Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, |
| And posts, like the commandment of a king, |
| Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets |
| In evil mixture to disorder wander, |
| What plagues and what portents, what mutiny, |
| What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, |
| Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors, |
| Divert and crack, rend and deracinate, |
| The unity and married calm of states |
| Quite from their fixture! O, when degree is shak'd, |
| Which is the ladder of all high designs, |
| The enterprise is sick! How could communities, |
| Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, |
| Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, |
| The primogenity 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 melts |
| 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 wrong— |
| Between whose endless jar justice resides— |
| Should lose their names, and so should justice too. |
| Then everything 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, with 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 ever step, |
| Exampl'd 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 stands, not in her strength. |
| NESTOR.: |
| Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd |
| The fever whereof all our power is sick. |
| AGAMEMNON.: |
| The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, |
| What is the remedy? |
| ULYSSES.: |
| The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns |
| 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 |
| Lies mocking our designs; with him Patroclus |
| Upon a lazy bed the livelong day |
| Breaks scurril jests; |
| And with ridiculous and awkward action— |
| Which, slanderer, he imitation calls— |
| He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, |
| Thy topless deputation he puts on; |
| And like a strutting player whose conceit |
| Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich |
| To hear the wooden dialogue and sound |
| 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage— |
| 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 beard, |
| As he being drest to some oration.' |
| That's done—as near as the extremest ends |
| Of parallels, as like 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. |
| 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 to-morrow 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; |
| 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. |
| AGAMEMNON.: |
| This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. |
| 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. |
| NESTOR.: |
| 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 mould |
| 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 grandame, and as chaste |
| As may be in the world. His youth in flood, |
| I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. |
| AENEAS.: |
| Now heavens forfend such scarcity of youth! |
| ULYSSES.: |
| Amen. |
| AGAMEMNON.: |
| Fair Lord Aeneas, 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.] |
| ULYSSES.: |
| Nestor! |
| NESTOR.: |
| What says Ulysses? |
| ULYSSES.: |
| I have a young conception in my brain; |
| Be you my time to bring it to some shape. |
| NESTOR.: |
| What is't? |
| ULYSSES.: |
| This 'tis: |
| Blunt wedges rive hard knots. The seeded pride |
| That hath to this maturity blown up |
| In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd |
| Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil |
| To overbulk us all. |
| NESTOR.: |
| Well, and how? |
| ULYSSES.: |
| This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, |
| However it is spread in general name, |
| Relates in purpose only to Achilles. |
| NESTOR.: |
| True. 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 judgment, |
| Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose |
| Pointing on him. |
| ULYSSES.: |
| And wake him to the answer, think you? |
| NESTOR.: |
| Why, 'tis most meet. Who may you else oppose |
| That can from Hector bring those honours off, |
| If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat, |
| Yet in this trial much opinion dwells |
| For here the Troyans taste our dear'st repute |
| With their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses, |
| Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd |
| In this vile 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 mas |
| 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 a conquering part, |
| 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. |
| ULYSSES.: |
| 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, |
| By showing the worst first. 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. |
| NESTOR.: |
| I see them not with my old eyes. What are they? |
| ULYSSES.: |
| What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, |
| Were he not proud, we all should wear with him; |
| But he already is too insolent; |
| And it were better parch in Afric sun |
| Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, |
| Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd, |
| Why, then we do our main opinion crush |
| In taint of our best man. No, make a lott'ry; |
| And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw |
| The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves |
| Give him allowance for the better 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. |
| NESTOR.: |
| Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; |
| And I will give a taste thereof forthwith |
| To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight. |
| Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone |
| Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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