Agam. How?
Ene. Ay;

I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phœbus.

Which is that god in office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?
Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.

Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm❜d,
As bending angels; that's their fame in peace:
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's
accord,

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Eneas,
Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips!
The worthiness of praise disdains his worth,
If that the praised himself bring the praise forth:
But what the repining enemy commends,

That breath fame follows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.

Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas? Ane. Ay, Greek, that is my name.

Agam. What's your affair, I pray you?

Ene. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. Agam. He hears naught privately, that comes from Troy.

Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: I bring a trumpet to awake his ear; To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak.

Agam. Speak frankly as the wind;

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour:"

That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,'

He tells thee so himself.

Ene. Trumpet, blow loud,

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;-
And every Greek of mettle, let him know,

What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.
[Trumpet sounds.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,)
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown; he bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords!
If there be one, among the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease;

That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril;
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear;
That loves his mistress more than in confession,
(With truant vows to her own lips he loves,)
And dare avow her beauty and her worth,
In other arms than hers,-to him this challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Creeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love:
If any come, Hector shall honour him;
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sun-burn'd, and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.

Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas;
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love!
If then, one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he.

Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector's grandsire suck'd; he is old now; But, if there be not in our Grecian host One noble man, that hath one spark of fire To answer for his love, tell him from me,I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn; And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste As may be in the world: his youth in flood, I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. Ene. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! Ulyss. Amen.

Agam. Fair lord Eneas, let me touch your hand; To our pavilion shall I lead you, Sir, Achilles shall have word of this intent;

So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent:
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.

[Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor.

Ulyss. Nestor,-
Nest. What says Ulysses?

An armour for the arm.

Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain, Be you my time to bring it to some shape. Nest. What is't?

Ulyss. 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.

Nest. Well, and how?

Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector

sends,

However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose to Achilles.

Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance,

Whose grossness little characters sum up:
And, in the publication, make no strain,
But that Achilles, were in brain as barren
As banks of Libya,-though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough,-will with great speed of judg-

ment,

Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Ulyss. And awake him to the answer, think you?
Nest. Yes,

It is most meet; whom may you else oppose,
That can from Hector bring those honours 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 subséquent 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 forth us all, a man distill'd
Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,

What heart receives from hence a conquering part,

Difficulty.
+ Size, measure.
Small points compared with the volumes.

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.

Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech ;-
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merehants, shew our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not,
The lustre of the better shall exceed,

By shewing the worst first. 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.
Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; what

are they?

Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from
Hector,

Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were better parch in Afric sun,
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd,
Why, then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery;
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves,
Give him allowance for the better man,
For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
Who boils in loud applause; and make him fall;
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still,
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,-
Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Nest. Ulysses,

Now I begin to relish thy advice;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon; go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other; pride alone,
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

Estimation of character.

+ Lot

Character.

§ Provoke

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-Another Part of the Grecian Camp. Enter AJAX and THERSITES.

Ajax. Thersites,

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils 1 full, all over, generally?

Ajax. Thersites,

Ther. And those boils did run?-Say so,-did not the general run then? Were not that a botcl:y core ?

Ajax. Dog,

Ther. Then would come some matter from him; I see none now.

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!

Ajax. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain o' thy jade's tricks!

Ajax. Toad's-stool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou strikest me thus ?

Ajax. The proclamation,-

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.

Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou. art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow ast another.

Ajax. 1 say, the proclamation.-

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.

Ajax. Mistress Thersites !

Ther. Thou shouldest strike him.
Ajax. Cobloaf!

г

Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with his

fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.

Ajax. You whoreson curr[Beating him.