AGAMEMNON.
Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.
AJAX.
Thou, trumpet, there’s my purse.
Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe;
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the colic of puff’d Aquilon.
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood:
Thou blowest for Hector.
[Trumpet sounds.]
ULYSSES.
No trumpet answers.
ACHILLES.
’Tis but early days.
AGAMEMNON.
Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas’ daughter?
ULYSSES.
’Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait:
He rises on the toe. That spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Enter Diomedes and Cressida.
AGAMEMNON.
Is this the Lady Cressid?
DIOMEDES.
Even she.