The noise goes, this:
The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector.
They call him Ajax.
Good; and what of him?
They say he is a very man per se
And stands alone.
So do all men unless they are drunk, sick,
or have no legs.
This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts
of their particular additions. He is as valiant as the
lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant, a
man into whom nature hath so crowded humors
that his valor is crushed into folly, his folly sauced
with discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that
he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint
but he carries some stain of it. He is melancholy
without cause and merry against the hair. He hath
the joints of everything, but everything so out of
joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and
no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
But how should this man that makes me
smile make Hector angry?
They say he yesterday coped Hector in the
battle and struck him down, the disdain and
shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting