Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to- | Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed, gether. Enter Nestor. My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edities another with her deeds. [Exe. severally. Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; SCENE IV.-Between Troy and the Grecian And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.camp. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites. There is a thousand Hectors in the field: Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, P'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var- And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot, let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doating fool- And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm: Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, I would fain see them meet; that that same young And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send Fall down before him, like the mower's swath that Greekish whoremaster villain, with the sleeve, Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve- Dexterity so obeying appetite, Enter Ulysses. Ulyss. O courage, courage, princes! great less errand. O'the other side, The policy of those That what he will, he does; and does so much, erafty swearing rascals,-that stale old mouse-eaten That proof is call'd impossibility. dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not proved worth a blackberry:-They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the eur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day: whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t'other. Enter Diomedes, Troilus following. Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend, Tro. Fly not; for, should'st thou take the river And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it, Styx, I would swini after. Dio. Thou dost miscall retire: Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian!-now for thy Hec. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood, and honour? Ther. No, no:-I am rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue. Hert. I do believe thee;-live. [Exit. Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; SCENE V.-The same. Enter Diomedes and a Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; I go, my lord. Enter Agamemnon. And stands colussus-wise, waving his beam,' (1) Lance. VOL. II. Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day Engaging and redeeming of himself, With such a careless force, and forceless care, Enter Ajax. Dio. Troilus, I say! where's Troilus! Dio. I would correct him. Ere that correction:-Troilus, I say! what, Troilus! Tro. O traitor Diomed!-turn thy false face, thou And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse! Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed. Enter Achilles. Achil. Now do I see thee: Ha!-Have at thee, Hect. Pause, if thou wilt. Enter Achilles and Myrmidons. 5 Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set. How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the veil and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. Hect. I am unarm'd: forego this vantage, Greek, Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [Hector falls. [Exit. So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down; well:-Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. Myrmidons. [Exe. Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; Mar. Turn, slave, and fight. Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt. SCENE IX. Another part of the field. Hector. A retreat sounded. lord. [Within.] Peace, drums. Achilles ! Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Achilles. Agam. March patiently along:-Let one be sent Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Tro. Hector is slain. In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.- I Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, behind him. (3) Burst. (1) Prevail over. (2) Care. (7) Fattening. upon our Phrygian plains, (8) Noise, rumour. (10) Pitched, fixed. Let Titan rise as early as he dare, As many as be here of panders' hall, I'll through and through you!—And thou, great-Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: siz'd coward! No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, [Exit. Pan. But hear you, hear you! Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy' and shame, Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit Troilus. This play is more correctly written than most of Pan. A goodly medicine for my aching bones!- Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent in which either the extent of his views or elevation despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story aboundyou set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should ed with materials, he has exerted little invention; our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so but he has diversified his characters with great loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it?-variety, and preserved them with great exactness. Let me see : His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and contemned. The comic characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer: they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners, than nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof (3) Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with that this play was written after Chapman had pub. ished his version of Homer. Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, (1) Ignominy. imblems and mottoes. (2) Ever. JOHNSON. To an untirable and continuate2 goodness: I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir? It stains the glory in that happy verse 'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. (1) Inured by constant practice. (2) For continual. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,* sir. Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent, Pain. Indifferent. Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret. Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; Is't good? Poet. I'll say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. 6 I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, (4) As soon as my book has been presented to Timon. (5) i. e. The contest of art with nature. (6) My design does not stop at any particular (3) i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. character. Leaving no track behind. Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. You see how all conditions, how all minds (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Tim. Commend me to him. I will send his ran som; I'll unbolt' to you. And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me: I grave and austere quality,) tender down To Apemantus, that few things loves better Pain. mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well express'd In our condition. Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on: All those which were his fellows but of late (Some better than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink' the free air. Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late-belov'd, all his dependants, A thousand moral paintings I can show Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the His means most short, his creditors most strait: To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; I am not of that feather, to shake off My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman, that well deserves a help, Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim. Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius ! Enter Lucilius. Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. By night frequents my house. I am a man Tim. Tim. The man is honest. Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state of fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you! [Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon Go not away.-What have you there, my friend? (3) To advance their conditions of life. |