Achilles stands i’ th’ entrance of his tent
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,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good; pride hath no other glass
To show itself but pride, for supple knees
Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.
We'll execute your purpose and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each lord, and either greet him not
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.