Ulyff. Amen.

Aga. Fair lord Eneas, let me touch your hand: To our Pavilion fhall I lead you firft:

Achilles fhall have word of this intent,

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

SCENE

VII.

Manent Ulyffes and Neftor.

ESTOR.

Uly. NES

Neft. What fays Ulyffes?

[Exeunt.

Uly I have a young conception in my brain,
Be you my time to bring it to fome shape.
Neft. What is't?

Uly. This 'tis ::

Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the feeded pride,
That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt,

Or, fhedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how now?

Ulyff. This Challenge that the gallant Helor fends, However it is fpread in general name,

Relates in pupofe only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpose is perfpicuous even as Substance, Whofe groffnefs little characters fum up.

And, in the publication, make no ftrain,

But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, (tho', Apollo knows,

'Tis dry enongh,) will with great speed of judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Uly. And wake him to the answer, think you? Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you elfe oppose,

That

That can from Hedor bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? though a sportful combat,
Yet in this trial much opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans tafte our dear'ft Repute
With their fin'ft palate: and truft to me, Ulyffes,
Our imputation fhall be odly pois'd

In this wild action. For the fuccefs,
Although particular, fhall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general:

And in fuch indexes, although small pricks
To their fubfequent volumes, there is feen
The baby figure of the giant-mafs

Of things to come, at large. It is fuppos'd,
He, that meets Hector, iffues from our Choice;
And Choice, being mutual act of all our fouls,
Makes merit her election; and doth boil,
As 'twere, from forth us all, a man diftill'd
Out of our virtues; who mifcarrying,

What heart from hence receives the conqu'ring part,
To feel a ftrong opinion to themselves!
Which entertain'd, limbs are his inftruments,
In no lefs working, than are fwords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

Uly. Give pardon to my speech;

Therefore 'tis ineet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, fhew our fouleft wares,
And think, perchance, they'll fell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to fhew,
Shall fhew the better. Do not then confent,
That even Hector and Achilles meet:

For both our honour and our fhame in this

Are dogg'd with two ftrange followers.

Neft. I fee them not with my old eyes: : what are they?

Uly. What glory our Achilles fhares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share with him: But he already is too infolent;

And we were better parch in Afric Sun,

Than

Than in the pride and falt fcorn of his eyes,
Should he 'fcape Hector fair. If he were foil'd
Why, then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man.

No, make a Lott'ry;

And by divice let blockish Ajax draw

The Sort to fight with Hector : 'mongst ourselves,
Give him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will phyfic the great Myrmidon,

Who broils in loud applaufe, and make him fall
His creft, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll drefs him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion ftill,

That we have better men. But, hit or mifs,
Our project's life this fhape of Senfe affumes,
Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Neft. Ulyffes, Now I relifh thy advice,
And I will give a tafte of it forthwith
To Agamemnon; we go to him ftreight;
Two curs fhall tame each other; pride alone
Muft tar the maftiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

ACT

II.

SCENE I.

The Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Therfites.

HERSITES,-

THERSITES,

AJAX.

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils-full,

all over, generally.

Ajax. Therfites,

[Talking to himself.

Ther. And those boils did run-fay fo-did not the General run? were not that a botchy core? Ajax. Dog!

Ther.

Ther. Then there would come fome matter from him: I fee none now.

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's fon, canft thou not hear? feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted lord!

*

Ajax. Speak then, you windyeft leaven, speak; I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but, I think, thy horfe will fooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book: thou canst ftrike, canft thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Doeft thou think, I have no fenfe, thou ftrik'ft 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 didft itch from head to foot, and I had the fcratching of thee; I would make thee the loath fom'ft fcab in Greece.

Ajax. I fay, the proclamation

Ther. Thou grumbleft and raileft every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his Greatness, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's Beauty: ay, that thou

bark'ft at him.

&

Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites!.

Ther. Thou fhouldft ftrike him.

Ajax. Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pound thee into fhivers with his fift, as a failor breaks a bisket.

Ajax. You whore fon cur!.

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch!

[Beating him.

; an

Ther. Ay, do, do, thou fodden-witted lord; thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows ; *Speak then, thou whinid'ft leaven,] This is the Reading of the old Copies. It should be windyeft, e. i. moft windy. Warb.

Affinego

Affinego may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant afs! thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and fold among thofe of any wit, like a Barbarian flave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at

thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou!

do.

Ajax. You dog!

Ther. You fcurvy lord!

Ajax. You cur!

[Beating him.

Ther. Mars his ideot! do, rudenefs; do, camel, do,

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 evasions 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 him, Achilles interpofes. VOL. IX.

C