To others' eyes nor doth the eye itself
(That moft pure spirit of fenfe) behold itself
Not going from itfelf; but eyes oppos'd

Salute each other with each others' form.
For fpeculation turns not to itself,

'Till it hath travell'd, and is marry'd there.
Where it may fee its felf; this is not strange.
Ulyff. I do not ftrain at the pofition,
It is familiar; but the author's drift;
Who, in his circumftance, exprefly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Tho' in, and of, him there is much confifting)
'Till he communicate his parts to others;
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,
'Till he behold them formed in th' applause
Where they're extended; which, like an arch, re-
verb'rates

The voice again; or, like a gate of fteel
Fronting the Sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt-in this,
And apprehended here immediately

The unknown Ajax.

Heav'ns! what a man is there? a very

horse,

That has he knows not what. Nature! what things there are,

Moft abject in regard, and dear in use?

What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth? now fhall we fee to-morrow
An Act, that very Chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! Oh heav'ns, what some men do,
While fome men leave to do!

* How fome men fleep in skittish Fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes;

How fome men creep in fkittish Fortune's hall,] This is faid with Defign that Achilles fhould apply it to himself and Ajax. But as creep is to be applied to Achilles, it conveys a wrong Idea, as reprefenting one who is timorous and afraid to atchieve great A&s: So that we fhould read, How fome men leep in fkittish Fortune's, hall. Warb.

How

How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feafting in his wantonness!
To fee thefe Grecian lords! why ev'n already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the fhoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy fhrinking.

Achil. This I do believe;

For they paffed by me, as misers do by beggars.
Neither gave to me good word, nor good look:
What are my deeds forgot?

Uly. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion :

(A great-fiz'd monfter of ingratitudes)

Those scraps are good deeds paft, which are devour'd
As faft as they are made, forgot as foon

As done Perfeverance keeps Honour bright:
To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rufty mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a ftreight fo narrow,
Where one but goes abreaft? keep then the path;
For Emulation hath a thousand fons,

That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or turn afide from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindermoft; and there you lie,
Like to a gallant horfe fall'n in first rank,
*For pavement to the abject Rear, o'er-run
And trampled on : Then what they do in prefent,
Tho' lefs than yours in paft, muft o'er-top yours.
For time is like a fafhionable host,

That flightly shakes his parting gueft by th' hand;
But with his arms out-ftretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer; Welcome ever smiles,

And Farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue.

feek

Remuneration for the thing it was;

*For pavement to the abjeƐ near,

Rear.

-] We should read, abje&

Warb.

For beauty, wit, high birth, defert in fervice,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all, with one confent, praise new-born Gawds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things paft;
And give to duft, that is a little gilt,

More laud than they will give to gold o'er-dufted:
The prefent eye praises the present object.
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion fooner catch the eye,
Than what not flirs. The Cry went once for thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,

If thou would't not entomb thyfelf alive,
And cafe thy reputation in thy tent;

Whofe glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil. Of my privacy

I have ftrong reasons.

Ulyff. 'Gainft your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical. 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.

Achil. Ha! known!

Uly. Is that a wonder?

The providence, that's in a watchful State,
Knows almost every grain of Pluto's Gold;,

Finds bottom in th' uncomprehenfive Deep;

Keeps place with thought; and almoft, like the
Gods,

Does ev'n our thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery (with which relation
Durft never meddle) in the Soul of State;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, can give expreffure to.
All the commerce that you have had with Troy

As

As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord.
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena.

But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When Fame fhall in his island found her trump;
And all the Greekish girls fhall tripping fing,
Great Hector's fifter did Achilles win;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewel, my lord-I, as your lover, fpeak;
The fool flides o'er the ice, that you should break.
[Exit.

Pat.

T

O this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you; A woman, impudent and mannish grown, Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man In time of act.I ftand condemn'd for this; They think, my little ftomach to the war, And your great love to me, reftrains you thus: Sweet, roufe yourfelf; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloofe his am'rous fold; And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be fhook to air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector !---

Pat. Ay, and, perhaps, receive much honour by him.

Achil. I fee, my reputation is at stake;

My fame is fhrewdly gor'd.

Pat. O then beware:

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves: Omiffion to do what is necessary

Seals a Commiffion to a Blank of Danger;

And Danger, like an ague, fubtly taints
Even then, when we fit idly in the Sun.
Achil. Go call Therfites hither, sweet Patroclus:
I'll fend the fool to Ajax, and defire him
T'invite the Trojan lords, after the Combat,

D 6

Το

To fee us here unarm'd: I have a woman's Longing
An appetite that I am fick withal,

To fee great Hector in the Weeds of
peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his vifage,
Ev'n to my full of view.-A labour fav'd!

Ther. Achil. What?

IX.

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himfelf.

Achil. How fo?

Ther. He muft fight fingly to-morrow with Hector, and is fo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in faying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he ftalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride and a stand; ruminates like an hoftess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain, to fet down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say, there were wit in his head, if 'twould out; and fo there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not fhew without knocking. The man's undone for ever: for if Hector break not his neck i'th' combat, he'll break't himfelf in vainglory. He knows not me: I faid, good-morrow, Ajax And he replies, thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the General? he's grown a very land-fifh, language-lefs, a monfter. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both fides, like a leather Jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambaffador to him, Therfites.

Ther. Who, I?-why, he'll anfwer no body; he profeffes not answering; fpeaking is for beggars;

he