I'll answer to my Luft: And know, my Lord, Par. Hak, Hector's Trumpet! [Sound Trumpet. Ane. How have we fpent this Morning? The Prince muft think me tardy and remifs, That fwore to ride before him in the Field. Par. 'Tis Troilus fault. Come, come to Field with him. Dio. Let us make ready ftráit. Æne. Yea, with a Bridegroom's fresh alacrity Let us addrefs to tend on Hector's Heels: The Glory of our Troy doth this day lye SCENE II. The Grecian Camp. [Exeunt. Enter Ajax Armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulyffes, Neftor, Calchas, &c. Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Ajax. Thou Trumpet, there's my Purfe; Come ftretch thy Cheft,and let thy Eyes fpout Blood: Uly. No Trumpet anfwers. Exter Enter Diomede and Creffida. Aga. Is't not young Diomede with Calchas Daughter? In Afpiration lifts him from the Earth. Dio. Even the. Aga. Moft dearly welcome to the Greeks, fweet Lady. Neft. Our General doth falute you with a Kifs. Vlyf. Yet is your Kindnefs but particular; 'twere better fhe were kift in general. Neft. And very courtly Counfel: I'll begin. So much for Neftor. Achil. I'll take that Winter from your Lips; fair Lady, Achilles bids you welcome. Men. I had good Argument for kiffing once. Patr. But that's no Argument for kiffing now; For thus pop'd Paris in his Hardiment. Vlyf. Oh deadly Gall, and theme of all our Scorns, For which we lofe our Heads to gild his Horns. Patr. The firft was Menelaus kifs---this mine---Patroclus kiffes you. Men. O this is trim, Patr. Paris and I kifs evermore for him. Men. I'll have my kiss, Sir: Lady, by your leave. Patr. Both take and give. Cre. I'll make my match to give, The kifs you take is better than you give; therefore no kifs. Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. Cre. You are an odd Man, give even, or give none. Men. An odd Man, Lady? every Man is odd. Cre. No, I'll be fworn. Vlyf. It were no match, your Nail against his Horn: May I, fweet Lady, beg a kiss of you? Cre. You may. Vlyf. I do defire it, Cre. Why beg then. Ulys. Why then, for Venus fake give me a kiss: Cre. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. [Diomedes leads out Creffida, then returns. Vlyf. Fie, fie upon her: There's Language in her Eye, her Cheek, her Lip: And Daughters of the Game. Enter Hector, Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Helenus, and Attendants. All. The Trojans Trumpet. Aga. Yonder comes the Troop. Ene. Hail all you ftate of Greece; what shall be done To him that Victory commands? or do you purpose, A Victor shall be known: Will you, the Knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Purfue each other, or fhall be divided By any Voice, or order of the Field: Hector bad ask? Ane. He cares not, he'll obey Conditions. A little proudly, and great deal defpifing The Knight oppos'd. Ane. If not Achilles, Sir, what is your Name? Ane. Therefore Achilles; but whate'er, know this, Is the extremity of great and little : Valour and Pride excel themselves in Hector; The one almoft as infinite as all, The other blank as nothing; weigh him well; In love whereof, half Hector ftays at home: Achil. A Maiden Battel then? O, I perceive you. Or elfe a breach, the Combatants being kin, Ajax. What Trojan is that fame that looks fo heavy? And a true Knight; they call him Troilus; For Hector in his blaze of Wrath fubfcribes Neft. Now Ajax hold thine own. [Alarum. [Hector and Ajax fight. Troi. Hector thou fleep'ft, awake thee. Aga. His Blows are well difpos'd; there Ajax. [Trumpers Dio. You must no more. Ene. Princes,ough, fo please you. Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again. Dio. As Hector pleases. Hect. Why then, will I no more Thou art, great Lord, my Father's Sifter's Son; Z 4 ceafe. The The obligation of our Blood forbids Were thy Commixion Greek and Trojan so, Ajax. I thank thee, Hector: Thou art too gentle, and too free a Man: On whofe bright Creft, Fame with her loud'ft O yes, A thought of added Honour torn from Hector. Ene. There is expectance here from both the fides: What further you will do.. Helt. We'll answer it: The iffue is Embracement: Ajax, farewel Dio. Tis Agamemnon's with, and great Achilles Helt. Eneas, call my Brother Troil to me: And fignifie this loving Interview To the expeétors of the Trojan part: Defire him home. Give me thy Hand, my Coufin: |