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Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air May pierce the head of the great combatant And hale him hither.
Here you are, looking fresh and ready, Eager to jump into action. Blow your trumpet loudly to Troy, You fearsome Ajax, so that the shocked air Can reach the ears of the great fighter And bring him here.
Thou, trumpet, there’s my purse. Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek Outswell the colic of puff’d Aquilon: Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow’st for Hector.
You, trumpet, here’s my purse. Now blast your lungs, and split your brass pipe: Blow, scoundrel, until your puffed-up cheeks Are bigger than the wind god’s swollen belly: Come on, puff out your chest and make your eyes bleed; You’re blowing for Hector.
No trumpet answers.
No trumpet answers.
’Tis but early days.
It’s still early in the day.
Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas’ daughter?
Isn’t that Diomed, with Calchas’ daughter?
’Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; He rises on the toe: that spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
It’s him, I recognize the way he walks; He rises on his toes: that spirit of his Lifts him off the ground in his ambition.
Is this the Lady Cressid?
Is this the lady Cressida?
Even she.
Yes, it’s her.
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
Most warmly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Our general greets you with a kiss.
Yet is the kindness but particular; ’Twere better she were kiss’d in general.
But this kindness is too personal; It would be better if she were kissed by everyone.
And very courtly counsel: I’ll begin. So much for Nestor.
And very polite advice: I’ll start. So much for Nestor.
I’ll take what winter from your lips, fair lady: Achilles bids you welcome.
I’ll take the winter from your lips, fair lady: Achilles welcomes you.
I had good argument for kissing once.
I had good reason to kiss once.
But that’s no argument for kissing now; For this popp’d Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument.
But that’s no reason to kiss now; Because Paris did it boldly, And then separated you from your argument.
O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
Oh, bitter pain, and the subject of all our mockery! For which we lose our heads to give him glory.
The first was Menelaus’ kiss; this, mine: Patroclus kisses you.
The first kiss was from Menelaus; this one’s mine: Patroclus kisses you.
O, this is trim!
Oh, this is neat!
Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
Paris and I will kiss forever for him.
I’ll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave.
I’ll get my kiss, sir. Lady, if you’ll allow.
In kissing, do you render or receive?
When kissing, do you give or take?
Both take and give.
Both give and take.
I’ll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give; Therefore no kiss.
I’ll make my bet to live, The kiss you take is better than the one you give; So no kiss.
I’ll give you boot, I’ll give you three for one.
I’ll give you more, I’ll give you three for one.
You’re an odd man; give even or give none.
You’re a strange man; either give equally or give nothing.
An odd man, lady! every man is odd.
A strange man, lady! every man is strange.
No, Paris is not; for you know ’tis true, That you are odd, and he is even with you.
No, Paris isn’t; because you know it’s true, That you are strange, and he’s even with you.
You fillip me o’ the head.
You’re tapping me on the head.
No, I’ll be sworn.
No, I swear I’m not.
It were no match, your nail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
It wouldn’t be a fair match, your fingernail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, ask for a kiss from you?
You may.
You may.
I do desire it.
I do want it.
Why, beg, then.
Then ask for it.
Why then for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss, When Helen is a maid again, and his.
Then for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss, When Helen is a virgin again, and his.
I am your debtor, claim it when ’tis due.
I owe you, claim it when it’s due.
Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.
Never’s my day, and then a kiss from you.
Lady, a word: I’ll bring you to your father.
Lady, a word: I’ll take you to your father.
A woman of quick sense.
A woman who’s very quick-witted.
Fie, fie upon her! There’s language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body. O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, That give accosting welcome ere it comes, And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every ticklish reader! set them down For sluttish spoils of opportunity And daughters of the game.
Ugh, what a woman! You can see everything in her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, Even her feet speak; her playful energy shows In every part of her body. Oh, these people who act so smooth with their words, Who greet you before they even speak, And reveal their thoughts completely To anyone who’s looking! We should mark them down As messy opportunists And daughters of the game.
The Trojans’ trumpet.
It’s the Trojans’ trumpet.
Yonder comes the troop.
Here comes the troop.
Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done To him that victory commands? or do you purpose A victor shall be known? will you the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.
Greetings, all of you from Greece! What should we do To the one who wins? Or do you plan For the victor to be announced? Will you, the knights, Fight to the death, or will we separate By some decision or order from the field? Hector asked us to decide.
Which way would Hector have it?
How does Hector want it?
He cares not; he’ll obey conditions.
He doesn’t care; he’ll follow whatever rules you set.
’Tis done like Hector; but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal misprizing The knight opposed.
It’s typical of Hector; he does it without fear, A little arrogantly, and with little respect For the knight he faces.
If not Achilles, sir, What is your name?
If not Achilles, sir, Who are you?
If not Achilles, nothing.
If I’m not Achilles, I’m nothing.
Therefore Achilles: but, whate’er, know this: In the extremity of great and little, Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; The one almost as infinite as all, The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, And that which looks like pride is courtesy. This Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood: In love whereof, half Hector stays at home; Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
Then you must be Achilles. But, whatever the case, know this: In the extreme of both greatness and smallness, Courage and pride are both at their best in Hector; One is almost limitless, like everything, The other is as empty as nothing. Consider him carefully, And what looks like pride is actually politeness. This Ajax is partly made of Hector’s blood: In love with which, half of Hector stays at home; Half heart, half hand, half of Hector comes to seek This combined knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
A maiden battle, then? O, I perceive you.
A small-scale fight, then? Oh, I see what you’re saying.
Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord AEneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it; either to the uttermost, Or else a breath: the combatants being kin Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
Here comes Sir Diomed. Go, noble knight, Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord AEneas Agree on the terms of their fight, So be it; either to the end, Or just a brief moment: the combatants being related Half stops their conflict before the first blow is struck.
They are opposed already.
They’re already facing off.
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
Which Trojan is that, looking so downcast?
The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calm’d: His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath; Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes To tender objects, but he in heat of action Is more vindicative than jealous love: They call him Troilus, and on him erect A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. Thus says AEneas; one that knows the youth Even to his inches, and with private soul Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, Not fully grown yet, but unmatched, steady in his words, He speaks through actions, and his tongue is silent; Not easily angered, and when he is, he calms down quickly: His heart and hand are both open and free; He gives what he has, and shows what he thinks; But he gives only when his judgment guides his generosity, And doesn’t waste his breath on impure thoughts; He’s as manly as Hector, but more dangerous; Because Hector, in the heat of anger, tends to Show mercy, but this man, when he acts, Is more vengeful than a jealous lover: They call him Troilus, and on him they place A second hope, as strong as Hector. This is what AEneas says; he knows the young man Even to the smallest detail, and with a private heart He told me this about him in great Ilion.
They are in action.
They’re fighting now.
Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
Now, Ajax, hold your ground!
Hector, thou sleep’st; Awake thee!
Hector, you’re asleep; Wake up!
His blows are well disposed: there, Ajax!
His blows are well placed: there, Ajax!
You must no more.
You must stop now.
Princes, enough, so please you.
Princes, that’s enough, if you please.
I am not warm yet; let us fight again.
I’m not tired yet; let’s fight again.
As Hector pleases.
As Hector wants.
Why, then will I no more: Thou art, great lord, my father’s sister’s son, A cousin-german to great Priam’s seed; The obligation of our blood forbids A gory emulation ’twixt us twain: Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou couldst say ’This hand is Grecian all, And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother’s blood Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister Bounds in my father’s;’ by Jove multipotent, Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud: but the just gods gainsay That any drop thou borrow’dst from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drain’d! Let me embrace thee, Ajax: By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; Hector would have them fall upon him thus: Cousin, all honour to thee!
Well, then I won’t fight anymore: You are, great lord, my father’s sister’s son, A cousin to great Priam’s family; The bond of our blood forbids A bloody rivalry between us two: If your mix of Greek and Trojan blood were such That you could say, ‘This hand is all Greek, And this one is Trojan; the muscles of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother’s blood Flows on my right cheek, and this left cheek Is from my father’s side;’ by mighty Jove, You still wouldn’t bear from me a Greek part Where my sword hadn’t marked it With the mark of our deep feud: but the gods forbid That any blood you inherited from your mother, My dear aunt, should be spilled by my sword! Let me hug you, Ajax: By him who strikes with thunder, you have strong arms; Hector would want them to strike him like this: Cousin, all honor to you!
I thank thee, Hector Thou art too gentle and too free a man: I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death.
Thank you, Hector You are too kind and too noble a man: I came to kill you, cousin, and take home A great honor earned by your death.
Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud’st Oyes Cries ’This is he,’ could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
Not even Neoptolemus, so admirable, Whose bright helmet Fame loudly proclaims ‘This is the one,’ could hope for A fraction of the added honor I would gain by killing you.
There is expectance here from both the sides, What further you will do.
Both sides are waiting to see What you’ll do next.
We’ll answer it; The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell.
We’ll answer it; The result will be a gesture of peace: Ajax, goodbye.
If I might in entreaties find success-- As seld I have the chance--I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
If I could succeed with my plea— As rarely as that happens—I would ask My famous cousin to come to our Greek camp.
’Tis Agamemnon’s wish, and great Achilles Doth long to see unarm’d the valiant Hector.
It’s Agamemnon’s wish, and great Achilles Wants to see the brave Hector unarmed.
AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part; Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; I will go eat with thee and see your knights.
AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And let the people waiting for us in Troy know about this friendly meeting; Tell them to go home. Give me your hand, cousin; I’ll go eat with you and check on your knights.
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
Great Agamemnon is coming to meet us here.
The worthiest of them tell me name by name; But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes Shall find him by his large and portly size.
Tell me the names of the best of them one by one; But as for Achilles, I’ll spot him myself By his big, strong body.
Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of such an enemy; But that’s no welcome: understand more clear, What’s past and what’s to come is strew’d with husks And formless ruin of oblivion; But in this extant moment, faith and troth, Strain’d purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee, with most divine integrity, From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
Worthy of respect! as welcome as someone Who wants to be rid of a terrible enemy; But that’s not really a warm welcome: let me make myself clearer, What’s past and what’s to come are scattered with empty shells And the shapeless wreckage of forgotten things; But in this present moment, trust and loyalty, Pure and free from any deceit or bias, Tell you, with the deepest sincerity, From the very bottom of my heart, great Hector, welcome.
I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
Thank you, mighty Agamemnon.
[To TROILUS] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
[To TROILUS] My honored lord of Troy, just as welcome to you.
Let me confirm my princely brother’s greeting: You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
Let me repeat my noble brother’s greeting: You two warlike brothers, welcome here.
Who must we answer?
Who should we respond to?
The noble Menelaus.
The noble Menelaus.
O, you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks! Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath; Your quondam wife swears still by Venus’ glove: She’s well, but bade me not commend her to you.
Oh, you, my lord? By Mars’ gauntlet, thank you! Don’t mock me for using this old-fashioned vow; Your former wife still swears by Venus’ glove: She’s fine, but she asked me not to send her regards to you.
Name her not now, sir; she’s a deadly theme.
Don’t mention her now, sir; she’s a painful subject.
O, pardon; I offend.
Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend.
I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft Labouring for destiny make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee, As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, Despising many forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i’ the air, Not letting it decline on the declined, That I have said to some my standers by ’Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!’ And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, When that a ring of Greeks have hemm’d thee in, Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seen; But this thy countenance, still lock’d in steel, I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, And once fought with him: he was a soldier good; But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, Never saw like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
I’ve often seen you, gallant Trojan, fighting hard Struggling through battle to shape your fate Among groups of Greek warriors, and I’ve seen you, As fierce as Perseus, urging your Phrygian horse, Ignoring many risks and dangers, When you’ve held your raised sword in the air, Not letting it drop on those who were already defeated, And I’ve said to some bystanders, ‘Look, there’s Jupiter up there, giving life!’ And I’ve seen you stop and catch your breath, When a circle of Greeks surrounded you, Like an Olympian wrestler: I’ve seen all of this; But I’ve never seen your face, always covered in armor, Until now. I knew your grandfather, And I once fought alongside him: he was a good soldier; But, by great Mars, the leader of us all, I’ve never seen anyone like you. Let me, an old man, hug you; And, noble warrior, welcome to our camp.
’Tis the old Nestor.
It’s the old Nestor.
Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk’d hand in hand with time: Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Let me hug you, good old story, You’ve been walking alongside time for so long: Most respected Nestor, I’m happy to embrace you.
I would my arms could match thee in contention, As they contend with thee in courtesy.
I wish my arms could compete with you in a fight, As they’ve already done in showing respect.
I would they could.
I wish they could.
Ha! By this white beard, I’ld fight with thee to-morrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.
Ha! By this white beard, I’d fight with you tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I’ve seen the time.
I wonder now how yonder city stands When we have here her base and pillar by us.
I wonder how that city over there is holding up When we’ve got its base and support right here with us.
I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there’s many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomed In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
I know you, Lord Ulysses, very well. Ah, sir, so many Greeks and Trojans have died, Since I first saw you and Diomed In Ilion, on your Greek mission.
Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
Sir, I predicted then what would happen: My prophecy is only halfway through; For those walls, that boldly face your city, Those towers, whose lofty tops kiss the clouds, Will one day fall.
I must not believe you: There they stand yet, and modestly I think, The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.
I must not believe you: There they stand still, and I think modestly, The fall of every Trojan stone will cost A drop of Greek blood: the end crowns everything, And that old judge, Time, Will one day finish it.
So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome: After the general, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent.
So we leave it to him. Most gentle and most brave Hector, welcome: After the general, I ask you next To dine with me and visit me in my tent.
I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.
I’ll beat you to it, Lord Ulysses! Now, Hector, I’ve feasted my eyes on you; I’ve closely examined you, Hector, And counted every part.
Is this Achilles?
Is this Achilles?
I am Achilles.
I am Achilles.
Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee.
Stand still, I beg you: let me look at you.
Behold thy fill.
Take a good look.
Nay, I have done already.
No, I’ve seen enough already.
Thou art too brief: I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
You’re too brief: I’ll look at you again, As if I were buying you, checking you out part by part.
O, like a book of sport thou’lt read me o’er; But there’s more in me than thou understand’st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
Oh, like a book of entertainment, you’ll read me over; But there’s more to me than you understand. Why do you stare at me like that?
Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector’s great spirit flew: answer me, heavens!
Tell me, heavens, where on his body Should I strike him? Here, or here, or here? So I can name the spot where I hit him And mark the exact place his great spirit left him: answer me, heavens!
It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question: stand again: Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead?
It would shame the blessed gods, proud man, To answer such a question: stand back: Do you think you can take my life so easily By guessing where you’ll kill me?
I tell thee, yea.
I tell you, yes.
Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, I’d not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; For I’ll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I’ll kill thee every where, yea, o’er and o’er. You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I’ll endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never--
Even if you were a prophet telling me that, I wouldn’t believe you. From now on, guard yourself well; I won’t kill you there, or there, or there; But by the forge where Mars’ helmet was made, I’ll kill you everywhere, again and again. You wisest Greeks, forgive my boasting; His arrogance makes me speak foolishly; But I’ll back up these words with actions, Or may I never...
Do not chafe thee, cousin: And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring you to’t: You may have every day enough of Hector If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.
Don’t get upset, cousin: And you, Achilles, drop these threats, Until chance or purpose brings you to it: You’ll have plenty of chances to face Hector If you want to, though I fear The general situation won’t allow you to act so rashly.
I pray you, let us see you in the field: We have had pelting wars, since you refused The Grecians’ cause.
Please, let’s meet in the field: We’ve had small skirmishes since you turned down The Greeks’ cause.
Dost thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; To-night all friends.
Are you asking me, Hector? Tomorrow I’ll meet you, as deadly as death; But tonight, all is friendly.
Thy hand upon that match.
Shake on that agreement.
First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; There in the full convive we: afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.
First, all you leaders of Greece, come to my tent; There we’ll feast together: afterwards, As Hector’s timing and your generosity allow, Ask him individually. Beat the drums loudly, let the trumpets play, So this great warrior knows he’s welcome.
My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
Lord Ulysses, please tell me, Where does Calchas stay on the field?
At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus: There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid.
At Menelaus’ tent, noble Troilus: There Diomed feasts with him tonight; He doesn’t look at heaven or earth, But only stares at the beautiful Cressid.
Shall sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, To bring me thither?
Sweet lord, will you be so kind, After we leave Agamemnon’s tent, To take me there?
You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?
You can give me orders, sir. Just tell me gently, what kind of honor did This Cressida have in Troy? Didn’t she have a lover there Who mourns her absence?
O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth: But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth.
Oh, sir, people who brag about their wounds Deserve to be mocked. Shall we continue walking, my lord? She was loved, she loved; she is, and does: But still, sweet love is food for fortune’s appetite.