Ulysses

Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector’s sword had lacked a masterMetonymy
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,
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Ulysses
Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.
Agamemnon
What’s his excuse?
Ulysses
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.
Agamemnon
Why, will he not, upon our fair request,
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Ulysses
Achilles stands i’ th’ entrance of his tent.
Please it our General pass strangely by him
As if he were forgot, and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last. ‘Tis like he’ll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turned on him.
If so, I have derision medicinable
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
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Achilles
What are you reading?
Ulysses
A strange fellow here
Writes me that man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues, shining  upon others,
Heat them,
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes.
Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honor bright. To have done is to hang
Quite out of fashion like a rusty mail
In monumental mock’ry.
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Ulysses
‘Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam’s daughters.
Achilles
Ha? Known?
Ulysses
Is that a wonder?
The providence that’s in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Pluto’s gold,
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deep,
Keeps place with thought and almost, like the gods,
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Nestor
A woman of quick sense.
Ulysses
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 tickling reader!
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Agamemnon
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
Ulysses
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 calmed,
His heart and hand both open and both free.
For what he has,
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Ulysses
All’s done, my lord.
Troilus
It is.
Ulysses
Why stay we then?
Troilus
To make a recordation to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
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