That by a pace goes backward, in a purpose
The General's difdain'd
By him one step below; he, by the next;
That next, by him beneath: fo every step,
Exampled by the firft pace that is fick
Of his Superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodlefs emulation.
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own finews. To end a Tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her ftrength.
Neft. Moft wifely hath Ulyffes here discover'd
The fever, whereof all our power is fick.
Aga. The nature of the fickness found, Ulyffes,
What is the remedy?
Uly. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The linew and the fore-hand of our Hoft,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our defigns. With him, Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed, the live-long day
And with ridiculous and aukward action
(Which, flander, he imitation calls)
He pegeants us. Sometimes, great Agamemnon,
*Thy ftopless Deputation he puts on;
And, like a ftrutting Player, (whose conceit
Lies in his ham-ftring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and found
'Twixt his ftretch'd footing and the fcaffoldage)
Such to-be-pitied and o`er-wrefted Seeming
He acts thy Greatnefs in: and when he fpeaks,
'Tis like a chime a mending: with terms unfquar'd:
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would feem hyperboles. At this fuity fluff
The large Achilles, on his preft-bed lolling,
From his deep cheft laughs out a loud applause :
Thy toplets deputation} I fufpe& the Poet wrote fiopless,
i. c. unlimited; which was the Cafe.
excellent!-'tis Agamemnon just
Now play me Neftor-hum, and ftroke thy beard,
As he, being 'dreft to fome oration.
That's done as near as the extremeft ends
Of parallels; as like, as Vulcan and his wife:
Yet good Achilles ftill cries, excellent!
'Tis Neftor right! now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-alarm:
And then, forfooth, the faint defects of age
Muft be the fcene of mirth, to cough and fpit,
And with a palfy fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet- -and at this fport,
Sir Valour dies: cries O! -enough, Patroclus
Or give me ribs of fteel, I fhall split all
In pleasure of my fpleen. And, in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, fhapes,
Severals and generals of grace; exacts,
Atchievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or fpeech for truce,
Succefs or lofs, what is, or is not, ferves
As ftuff for thefe two to make paradoxes.
Neft. And in the imitation of these twain,
(Whom, as Ulyffes fays, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice) many are infect:
Ajax is grown felf-will'd, and bears his head
In fuch a rein, in full as proud a pace,
As broad Achilles; and keeps his tent like him;
Makes factious feafts, rails on our ftate of war,
Bold as an Oracle; and fets Therfites
(A flave, whofe gall coins flanders like a mint)
To match us in comparifons with dirt;
To weaken and difcredit our exposure,
How hard foever rounded in with danger.
Ulyff. They tax our policy, and call it cowardife, Count wifdom as no member of the war; Fore ftall our prescience, and esteem no A&t But that of hand: The ftill and mental parts,, That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness call them on, and know by measure
Of their obfervant toil the enemies' weight;
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity;
They call this bed-work Mapp'ry, closet war :
So that the ram, that batters down the wall,
For the great fwing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the engine;
Or thofe, that with the fineness of their fouls
By reafon guide his execution.
Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horfe
Makes many Thetis' fons.
[Tucket founds. Aga. What trumpet ? look, Menelaus.
Aga. W Ene. Is this great Agamemnon's tent,
Ene. May one, that is a Herald and a Prince, Do a fair meffage to his kingly ears?
Aga. With furety ftronger than Achilles' arm, 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon Head and General.
Ene. Fair leave, and large fecurity. How may
A ftranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?
Aga. How?
Ene. I afk, that I might waken Reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning, when the coldly eyes
The youthful Phabus:
Which is that God of office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?
Aga. 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, ftrong joints, true fwords; and, (Jove's
Accord.)
Nothing fo full of heat. But peace, Eneas;
Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips;
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If he, that's prais'd, himself bring the praise forth :
What the repining enemy commends,
That breath Fame blows, that praise fole pure tranfcends.
Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas? Ene. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Aga. What's your affair, I pray you?
Ene. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.
Aga. He hears nought privately that comes from
Troy,
Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him; I bring a trumpet to awake his Ear,
To fet his fenfe on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.
Aga. Speak frankly as the wind,
It is not Agamemnon's fleeping hour;
That thou fhalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.
Ene. Trumpet, blow loud:
Send thy brafs voice thro' all thefe lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly, fhall be spoke aloud.
[The trumpets found.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A Prince call'd Hector (Priam is his father)
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce
Is rufty grown; he bad me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'it of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his eafe,
That feeks his praise more than he fears his peril,
That knows his valour and knows not his fear,
That loves his mistress more than in confeffion,
(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 Greeks,
Shall make it good, (or do his best to do it)
He hath a lady, wifer, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compafs in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call
Midway between your tents and walls of Troy,
To roufe a Grecian that is true in love.
If any come. He&or fhall honour him:
If none, he'll fay in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian Dames are fun-burn'd, and not worth The splinter of a lance ;- -even fo much.
Aga. This fhall be told our lovers, lord Æneas.
If none of them have foul in fuch a kind,
We've left them all at home: but we are foldiers;
And may
that foldier 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'm he.
Neft. Tell him of Neftor; one, that was a man When Hector's Grandfire fuckt; he is old now, But if there be not in our Grecian Hoft One noble man that hath one spark of fire, To answer for his love: tell him from me, I'll hide my filver 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 grandam, and as chaste As may be in the world: his youth in flood, I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood. Ene. Now heav'ns forbid fuch scarcity of youth * And in my vantbrace] An Armour for the Arm, a vantbras. Mr. Pope.
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