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les, Arbilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon, Tber fites is a fool to ferve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.

Pat. Why am I a fool ?

Tber. Make that demand to thy creator ; it suffices me chou art.

S CE N E VI.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax,

and Calchas. Look you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no body : come in with me, Therfites.

[Exit. Tber. Here is such patchery, such jugling, and such knavery: all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon : now the dry Serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all !

[Exit. Aga, Where is Achilles ? Pat. Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my Lord.

Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
? 'He sent us' messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him :
Let him be told so, lest perchance he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are,
Pat. I shall so say to him.

[Exit. Ulyf. We saw him at the opening of his tent, He is not sick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-lick, fick of a proud heart : you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; butz by my head, 'tis pride ; but why, why? --let him shew us the cause. A word, my Lord, (To Agamemnon.

Neft. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulys. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Neft. Who? Tberfites?

Uly. 7 He shent our

Ulyf. He.

Neft. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.

Ulys. No, you see he is his argument, that has his argument, Achilles.

Nest. All the better, their fraction is more our wish than their faction ; but it was a strong counsel that a fool could difunite.

Ulys. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untye.

S CE N E E VII.

Enter Patroclus.

Here comes Patroclus.
Neft. No Achilles with him?

Ulyf. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie ; His legs are for necessity, not flexure.

Pat. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure,
Did move your greatness, and this noble state,
To call on him ; he hopes it is no other,
But for your health and your digestion-fake';
An after-dinner's breath.

Aga. Hear you, Patroclus ;
We are too well acquainted with these answers :
But his evasion wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outflie our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him ; yet his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
And like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him ; you shall not fin
If you do say we think him over-proud,
In felf-assumption greater than in note
Of judgment : say, men worthier than himself

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Here tend the favage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And undergo in an observing kind
His humorous predominance ; yea, watch
S'His pettish lunes,' his ebbs and flows; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price fo much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lye under this report,
Bring action bitber, this can't go to war :
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a sleeping giant; tell him so.

Pat. I shall, and bring his answer presently. (Exit.

Aga. In fecond voice we'll not be satisfied;
We come to speak with him. Ulyses, enter. [Exit Ulys.

Ajax. What is he more than another?
Aga. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much? do you not think he thinks himielf a better man than I am ?

Aga. No question.
Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is ?

Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and alcogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow? I know not what it is.

Aga. Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer ; he that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises ' 'but it self in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. S CE 'N

VIII.

Enter Ulysses. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendring of toads.

Nei. & His course and times, or His pettish Lines.

9 it self but

Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Aya. What's his excuse ?

Ulys. He doth rely on none ;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without obfervance or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in self-admission.

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his person, and share the air with us?

Ulys. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,
He makes important : he's poffeft with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion, rages
And batters down himself; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens!
Cry, No recovery.

Aga. Let Ajax go to him.
Dear Lord, go you and greet him in his tent ;
"Tis said he holds you well, and will be led
At your request a little from himself.

Uly. O, Agamemnon, let it not be so.
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud Lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, fave such as do revolve
And ruminate himself, shall he be worship’d
Of that we hold an idol more than 2 him?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord
Must not so ftale his palm, nobly acquir'd,
Nor by my will assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles' is,
By going to Achilles ; 3 'for that were
But to enlard his pride, already fat,

And I death-tokens of it 2 he ?

3 That were t'inlard

And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This Lord go to him? Júpiter forbid,
And say in thunder, Achilles go to him!

Neji. O, this is well, he rubs che vein of him.
Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!

Ajax. If I go to him with my armed fift
Pll pash him o'er the face.

Aza. O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheese his pride ; Let me go to him

Ulyf. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax. A paultry insolent fellow
Neft. How he describes himself!
Ajax. Can he not be sociable?
Ulyf. The raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his humours blood.
Aga. He'll be the physician, that should be the patient.
Ajax. An all men were o' my mind
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. He should not bear it so, he thould eat swords first : shall pride carry it?

Neft. An 'would, you'd carry half.
Ulys. He would have ten shares.

Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him supple, Nest. He's not yet through warm, force him with praises ; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

Ulys. My Lord, you feed too much on this dinike. Neft. Our noble General, do not do so. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm. Here is a man-but 'tis before his face I will be filent.

Neft. Wherefore should you fo? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. 4 Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him supple, he is not yet through warm.

Nej. Force him with praises, &r.... oldiedit. Theob. emend.

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