_Agam_. Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas’ daughter?
_Vlyſ_. ’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.
_Agam_. Is this the lady Creſſid?
_Diom_. Even she.
_Agam_. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
_Nestor_. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
_Vlyſ_. Yet is the kindness but particular;
’Twere better she were kiss’d in general.
_Nestor_. And very courtly counsel: I’ll begin.
So much for Nestor.
_Achil_. I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady.
Achilles bids you welcome.
_Men_. I had good argument for kissing once.
_Patr_. But that’s no argument for kissing now;
For thus popp’d Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus you and your argument.
_Vlyſ_. O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
_Patr_. The first was Menelaus’ kiss; this, mine-
[Kisses her again]
Patroclus kisses you.
_Men_. O, this is trim!
_Patr_. Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
_Men_. I’ll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave.
_Cre_. In kissing, do you render or receive?
_Patr_. Both take and give.
_Cre_. I’ll make my match to live,
The kiss you take is better than you give;
Therefore no kiss.
_Men_. I’ll give you boot; I’ll give you three for one.
_Cre_. You are an odd man; give even or give none.
_Men_. An odd man, lady? Every man is odd.
_Cre_. No, Paris is not; for you know ’tis true
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
_Men_. You fillip me o’ th’ head.
_Cre_. No, I’ll be sworn.
_Vlyſ_. It were no match, your nail against his horn.
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
_Cre_. You may.
_Vlyſ_. I do desire it.
_Cre_. Why, beg then.
_Vlyſ_. Why then, for Venus’ sake give me a kiss
When Helen is a maid again, and his.
_Cre_. I am your debtor; claim it when ’tis due.
_Vlyſ_. Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.
_Diom_. Lady, a word. I’ll bring you to your father.
Exit with _Creſſid_
_Nestor_. A woman of quick sense.
_Vlyſ_. 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 encounters so glib of tongue
That give a coasting 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. [Trumpet within]
_All_. The Troians trumpet.
Enter Hector, armed; Æneas, Troylus, Paris, Hellenus,
and other Trojans, with attendants
_Agam_. Yonder comes the troop.
_Æne_. Hail, all the 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 they be divided
By any voice or order of the field?
Hector bade ask.
_Agam_. Which way would Hector have it?
_Æne_. He cares not; he’ll obey conditions.
_Achil_. ’Tis done like Hector; but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
The knight oppos’d.
_Æne_. If not Achilles, sir,
What is your name?
_Achil_. If not Achilles, nothing.
_Æne_. 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 Aiax 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 Troian and half Greek.
_Achil_. A maiden battle then? O, I perceive you!