ULYSSES
I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. NESTOR
What is't? ULYSSES
This 'tis: Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up In rank Achilles
must or now be cropp'd, Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. NESTOR
Well, and how? ULYSSES
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose
only to Achilles. NESTOR
The purpose is perspicuous even as substance, Whose grossness little characters sum up: And, in the
publication, make no strain, But that Achilles, were his brain as barren As banks of Libya, though, Apollo
knows, 'Tis dry enough, will, with great speed of judgment, Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose Pointing
on him. ULYSSES
And wake him to the answer, think you? NESTOR
Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose, That can from Hector bring his honour off, If not Achilles?
Though't be a sportful combat, Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; For here the Trojans taste our dear'st
repute With their finest palate: and trust to me, Ulysses, Our imputation shall be oddly poised In this wild
action; for the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in
such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the
giant mass Of things to come at large. It is supposed He that meets Hector issues from our choice And
choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election, and doth boil, As 'twere from us all, a
man distill'd Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence the conquering part, To
steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, In no less working
than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs. ULYSSES
Give pardon to my speech: Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, show our
foulest wares, And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not, The lustre of the better yet to show, Shall show the
better. Do not consent That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are
dogg'd with two strange followers. NESTOR
I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?
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