Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will humour him; but, on my honour, it is no more than pride; and why should he be proud?
Men. Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles with him.
Patro. Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move you to this visit: He's not well,
And begs you would excuse him, as unfit
For present business.
Agam. How! how's this, Patroclus?
We are too well acquainted with these answers.
Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss.
We came to speak with him; you shall not err,
If you return, we think him over-proud,
And under-honest. Tell him this; and add,
That if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie lag of all the camp.
A stirring dwarf is of more use to us,
Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.
Patro. I shall, and bring his answer presently.
Agam. I'll not be satisfied, but by himself:
So tell him, Menelaus.[Exeunt Menelaus and Patroclus.
Ajax. What's he more than another?
Agam. No more than what he thinks himself.
Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than me?