That hath to its maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt,
Or, fhedding, breed a pursery of like evil,
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how?

Uly. This challenge that the gallant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general name,

Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous even as substance, Whose groffness little characters fum up: And, in the publication, make no strain, But that Achilles, were his brain as barren As banks of Libya,-though, Apollo knows, 'Tis dry enough,-will with great fpeed 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 oppofe,

That can from Hector bring thofe honours off, If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells;

For here the Trojans tafte our dearest repute
With their fin'ft palate: And truft to me, Ulyffes,
Our imputation fhall be oddly pois'd

In this wild action: for the fuccefs,
Although particular, fhall give a fcantling
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 mass

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,

C 3

Makes

Makes merit her election; and doth boil,
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd
Out of our virtues; who mifcarrying,

What heart receives from hence a conquering part,
To steel a ftrong opinion to themselves?
Which entertain'd, limbs are in his inftruments,
In no lefs working, than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

Uly. Give pardon to my fpeech ;

Therefore 'tis meet, 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 fhall exceed,

By fhewing the worst firft. Do not confent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet;

For both our honour and our fhame, in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange 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 Africk fun,
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 lottery;

And, by device, let blockifh Ajax draw

The fort to fight with Hector: Among ourselves,
Give him allowance as the better man,

For that will phyfick 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 fafe off,

We'll

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 miss, Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,— Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes. Neft. Ulyffes,

Now I begin to relish thy advice;

And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To-Agamemnon: go we to him straight.
Two curs fhall tame each other; Pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax, and THERSITES.

THER SITES,

Ajax.

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils? full, all over, generally?

Ajax. Therfites,

Ther. And thofe boils did run!-Say fo,

did not the general run then; were not that a botchy core?

Ajax. Dog,

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.

Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted lord!

Ajax. Speak then, thou unfalted leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holinefs: but, I think, thy horse will fooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canft ftrike, canst thou? a red murrain o'thy jade's tricks!

Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Doft 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 didst itch from head to foot, and I had the fcratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incurfions, thou ftrikeft as flow as another.

Ajax. I fay, the proclamation,

Ther. Thou grumbleft and raileft every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatnefs, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's beauty, ay that thou bark'ft at him.

Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites!

Ther. Thou should'st strike him.

Ajax. Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pun thee into fhivers with his

fift, as a failor breaks a bifcuit.

Ajax. You whorefon cur!

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch

[Beating him.

Ther.

Ther. Ay, do, do; Thou fodden-witted lord! thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows; an affinego may tutor thee; Thou fcurvy valiant afs! thou art here put to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and fold among thofe of any wit, like a Barbarian flave. If thou ufe to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou!

Ajax. You dog!

Ther. You fcurvy lord!

Ajax. You cur!

[Beating him. Ther. Mars his ideot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.

Enter ACHILLES, and PATROCLUS.

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you thus?

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 so.

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 evafions 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 fparrow.