SCENE II.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this?

How now, Therfites? what's the matter, man?
Ther. You fee him there, do you?
Achil. Ay, what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.

Achil. So I do, what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. Well, why, I do fo.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for whofoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achil. I know that, fool.

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters; his evafions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain, more than he has beat my bones. I will buy nine fparrows for a penny, and his Pia Mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This Lord (Achilles) Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I fay of him.

Achil. What?

[Ajax offers to frike bim, Achilles interpofes

Ther. I fay, this Ajax

Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

Ther. Has not fo much wit

Acbil. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will ftop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight.

Achil. Peace, fool!

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not; he there, that he, look you there.

4

Ajax. O thou damn'd cur, I fhall

Achil. Will you fet your wit to a fool's ?
Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool's will fhame it.
Patr. Good words, Therfites.

Achil. What's the quarrel?

Ajax. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. Ther. I ferve thee not.

Ajax. Well, go to, go to.

Ther. I ferve here voluntary.

Achil. Your laft fervice was fufferance, 'twas not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an imprefs.

Ther. Ev'n fo-a great deal of your wit too lies in your finews, or else there be liars. Hector fhall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; he were as good crack a fufty nut with no kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Therfites?

Ther. There's Ulyffes and old Neftor, (whofe wit was mouldy ere your Grandfires had nails on their toes,) yoke you like draft oxen, and make you plough up the war.

to

Achil, What! what!

Ther. Yes, good footh; to, Achilles! to Ajax!

Ajax. I fhall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter, I fhall fpeak as much as thou afterwards.

Peace. when Achilles' brach

Patr. No more words, Therfites.
Ther. I will hold my peace,

bids me, fhall I?

3 Neftor, whfe wit was mouldy ere their Grandfires had nails] This is one of these editors wife riddles. What! Was Neftor's wit mouldy, before his Grandfire's toes had any nails? Prepofterous nonfenfe! and yet fo eafy a change, as one poor pronoun 3

for another, fets all right and clear.

THEOBALD.

4 when Achilles' brach bids me,] The folio and quarto read, Achilles' BROOCH. Broach is an appendant ornament. The meaning may be, equivalent to one of Achilles's hangers on.

Achil

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus..

Ther. I will fee you hang'd like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your Tents. I will keep where there is wit ftirring, and leave the faction of fools.

Patr. A good riddance.

[Exit.

Achil. Marry, this, Sir, is proclaim'd through all our Hoft,

That Helor, by the fifth hour of the Sun,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy,
To morrow morning call fome Knight to arms,
That hath a ftomach, fuch a one that dare
Maintain I know not what. 'Tis trafh, farewel.
Ajax. Farewel! who fhall anfwer him?

Achil. I know not, 'tis put to lott'ry, otherwife He knew his man.

Ajax. O, meaning you. I'll go learn more of it.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Changes to Priam's Palace in Troy.

Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus.

Pri.

AF

FTER fo many hours, lives, fpeeches
spent,

Thus once again fays Neftor from the Greeks:
Deliver Helen, and all damage else,

As honour, lofs of time, travel, expence,
Wounds, friends, and what elfe dear that is con-
fum'd

In hot digeftion of this cormorant war,
Shall be ftruck off. Hector, what fay you to't?
Hect. Though no man leffer fears the Greeks than I,
As far as touches my particular, yet, dread Priam,
There

There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More fpungy to fuck in the Sense of fear,
More ready to cry out, who knows what follows?
Than Helor is. The Wound of Peace is Surety,
Surety fecure; but modeft Doubt is call'd
Thy beacon of the wife; the tent that fearches
To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go.
Since the firft fword was drawn about this queftion,
Ev'ry tithe foul 'mongst many thousand difmes
Hath been as dear as Helen. I mean, of ours.
If we have loft fo many tenths of ours
To guard a thing not ours, not worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reafon which denies
The yielding of her up?

Troi. Fy, fy, my brother:

Weigh you the worth and honour of a King
So great as our dread father in a scale

Of common ounces? will you with counters fum
The paft-proportion of his infinite?

And buckle in a waist most fathomlefs,
With spans and inches fo diminutive

As fears and reafons? Fy, for godly fhame!

Hel. No marvel, though you bite fo fharp at reafons,
You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great fway of his affairs with reasons ;
Because your fpeech hath none, that tells him fo?

Troi. You are for dreams and flumbers, brother
Priest,

You fur your gloves with reafons. Here are your reafons.

You know, an enemy intends you harm;
You know, a fword imploy'd is perilous;

5 The paft-proportion of his infinite?] Thus read both the copies. The meaning is, that greatness to which no measure bears

any proportion. The modern editors filently give,

The vaft proportion

And

And reafon flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his fword, if he do fet

The very wings of reafon to his heels,

6

And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

Or like a star diforb'd!Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's fhut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their
thoughts

With this cramm'd reafon; reafon and refpect
Make livers pale, and luftyhood deject.

Helt. Brother, fhe is not worth what the doth coft The holding.

Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued?

Het. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds its eftimate and dignity

As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,

As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,
To make the fervice greater than the God;
7 And the Will dotes, that is inclinable
To what infectiously itself affects,

Without fome image of th' affected merit.
Troi. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous fhores

6 And fly like chidden Mercury
from Jove,

Or like a far diforb'd!] These two lines are misplaced in all the folio editions. POPE. 7 And the Will dotes, that is inclinable] Old edition, not fo well, has it, attributive. POPE. By the old edition Mr. Pope means the old quarto. The folio has, as it ftands, inclinable.

I think the first reading better; the will dotes that attributes or gives the qualities which it affects;

VOL. VII,

that firft caufes excellence, and then admires it.

8 Without fome image of th AFFECTED merit.] We

fhould read,

th' AFFECTED's merit. i. e. without fome mark of merit in the thing affected. WARB.

The prefent reading is right. The will affects an object for fome fuppofed merit, which Hector fays, is uncenfurable, unless the merit so affected be really there.

G /

Of