e cured by pride.

_Agam._ We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each prince; either salute him not,
Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more
Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.

_Achil._ What, comes the general to speak with me?
You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.

_Agam._ What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

_Nest._ Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

_Achil._ No.

_Nest._ Nothing, my lord.

_Agam._ The better.

_Menel._ How do you, how do you?

_Achil._ What, does the cuckold scorn me!

_Ajax._ How now, Patroclus?

_Achil._ Good morrow, Ajax.

_Ajax._ Ha!

_Achil._ Good morrow.

_Ajax._ Ay; and good next day too.
[_Exeunt all but_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.

_Achil._ What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?

_Patro._ They pass by strangely; they were used to bow,
And send their smiles before them to Achilles;
To come as humbly as they used to creep
To holy altars.

_Achil._ Am I poor of late?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declined is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.

_Patro._ 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister,
And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting
Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you,
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,
In time of action: I am condemned for this:
They think my little appetite to war
Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,
And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;
Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane,
Be shaken into air.

_Achil._ Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

_Patro._ Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.

_Achil._ I see my reputation is at stake.

_Patro._ O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men
Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.

_Achil._ I'll do something;
But what I know not yet.--No more; our champion.

_Re-enter_ AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE,
_Trumpet._

_Agam._ Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax.
Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,
Thou noble champion, that the sounding air
May pierce the ears of the great challenger,
And call him hither.

_Ajax._ Trumpet, take that purse:
Now