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Aga. Which way would Hector have it ?
Æne. He cares not; he'll obey conditions.
Aga. 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
The knight oppos'd.
Æne. If not Achilles, Sir, what is your name?
Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.
Æne. Therefore Achilles; but whate'er, know this;
In the extremity of great and little
Valour and pride excel themselves in HeEtor;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing; weigh him well ;
And that which looks like pride, is courtesie.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector, come to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
Achil. A maiden battel then? O, I perceive you.
Aga. Here is Sir Diomede : go, gentle knight,
Stand by our Ajax ; as you and lord Æneas
the order of their fight,
So be it; either to the uttermost,
Or elle a breath. The combatants being kin
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
Ulys. They are oppos'd already.
Aga. What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
Ulys. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word,
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue;
Not soon provok’d, nor being provok'd soon calm’d;
His heart and hand both open, and both free;
For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shews;
Yer gives he not 'till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes
To tender objects; but he in heat of action
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Troilus, and on him erect
A second bope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Æneas, one that knows the youth
Ev'n to his inches; and with private soul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
S CE N E IX.
Hector and Ajax fight.
Aga. They are in action.
Neft. Now Ajax hold thine own.
Troi. Hector, thou leep, awake thee.
Aga. His blows are well dispos’d; there Ajax.
Dio. You must no more.
Æne. Princes, enough, so please you.
Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Dio. As Hector pleases.
Heft. Why then, will I no more.
Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son ;
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed:
The obligation of our blood forbids
A gory emulation 'cwixt us twain ;
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so
That thou coud'st say, this hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister
Bounds in my fire's: by Jove multipotent,
Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish member,
Wherein my sword had aot impressure made
Of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrowift from thy mother,
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
Be drain’d. Let me embrace thee, Ajax :
By him that thunders, thou haft lusty arms;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus -
Cousin, all honour to thee.
Ajax. I thank thee, Hektor!
Thou art too gentle, and too free a man:
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.
Heat. Not Neoptolemus fo mirable,
On whose bright crest, Fame with her loud'ft O yes,
Cries, this is he, could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Heftor.
Æne. There is expectance here from both the sides,
What further you will do.
Heet. We'll answer it:
The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewel.
Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success,
(As seld I have the chance) I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm’d the valiant Hector.
Hect. Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me:
And lignifie this loving interview
To the expectors of our Trojan part:
Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin :
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
Agamemnon and the rest of the Greeks come forward.
Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
Hext. The worthiest of them tell me name by name;
But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.
Aga. Worthy all arms, as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy,
† But that's no welcome: understand more clear,
What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion :
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain’d purely from all hollow bias drawing,
Bids thee with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Heator, welcome.
Hext. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
Aga. My well-fain'd lord of Troy, no less to you.
Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting,
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
Hect. Whom must we answer ?
Æne. The noble Menelaus.
Hect. O ---- you my lord ---- by Mars his gauntlet thanks.
Mock not, that I affect th' untraded oath;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove.
She’s well, but bad me not commend her to you.
Men. Name her not now, Sir, she's a deadly theme.
Heft. O pardon I offend.
· Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen thee, " As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
Gravely despising forfeits and subduements, • When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i'th' air,
+ The fix following lines are not in the old edition.
'Not letting it decline on the declin’d:
' That I have said unto my standers-by,
' Lo, Jupiter is yonder dealing life.
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling. Thus I 've seen :
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw 'till now. I knew thy grandfire,
And once fought with him; he was a soldier good,
But by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee,
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
Æne. 'Tis the old Neftor.
Heft. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That halt so long walk'd hand in hand with time: Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Neft. I would my arms could match thee in contention, As they contend with thee in courtesie.
Hect. I would they could.
Neft. By this white beard I'd fight with thee to-morrow. Well, welcome, welcome; I have seen the time ---
Ulys. I wonder now how yonder city stands,
When we have here the base and pillar by us.
Heft. I know your favour, lord Ulyles, well.
Ah, Sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Since first I saw your self and Diomede
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassie.
Ulys. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue.
My prophesie is but half his journey yet;
For yonder walls that pertly front your town,
Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.
Heft. I must not believe you: