Vlyf. 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 thoughts unveil in their dumb Cradles :
There is a Myftery (with whom relation
Durft never meddle) in the Soul of State;
Which hath an Operation more divine,
Than Breath of Pen can give expreffure to:
All the commerce that you have had with Troy,
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 Ifland found her Trump;
And all the Greekish Girls fhall tripping fing,
Great Hector's Sifter did Achilles win;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewel, my Lord-I, as your Lover, speak;
The Fool flides o'er the Ice that you should break.
Patr. To 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 Action: 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 your felf; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your Neck unloofe his amorous fold,
And like a dew-'rop from the Lion's mane,

Be shook to ary Air.

Achil. Shali Ajax fight with Hector!---

Pair. Ay, and perhaps receive much Honour by him. Achil I fee my Reputation is at Stake,

My Fame is fhrewdly gor'd.

Patr. O then beware:

Thof wounds heal ill that Men do give themfelves:
Om fin to do what is neceffary,

Sea's 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, fweet Patroclus,
I'll fend the Fool to Ajax, and defire him
T'invite the Trojan Lords, after the Combat,

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,

Enter Therfites.

To talk with him, and to behold his Visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour fav'd-
Ther. A wonder !

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the Field, asking for him

felf.

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 stalks up and down like a Peacock, a ftride and a ftand; ruminates like an Hoftefs that hath no Arithmetick, but her Brain to fet down her Reckoning; bites his Lip with a politick regard, as who fhould fay, there were Wit in his Head, and 'twou'd 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 Vain-glory. 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-fish---languagelefs---a Monster; a plague of Opinion, a Man may wear it on both fides, like a Leather Jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my Ambaffidor to him, Therfites. Ther. Who? I?---why he'll ar fwer no Body; he profeffes not answering; fpeaking is for Beggars; he wears his Tongue in's Arms; I will put on his p efence; let Patroclus make his demands to me, you fhal! fee the Pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus---tell him, I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the moft valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my Tent, and to procure fafe Conduct for his Perfon, of the Magnanimous and moft Illuftrious, fix or fe

ven times honour'd Captain, General of the Grecian Army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.

Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax.

Ther. Hum

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who most humbly defires you to invite Hector to his Tent.

Ther. Hum

Patr. And to procure fafe Codu& from Agamemnon.
Ther. Agamemnon!

Patr. Ay, my Lord.

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What fay you to't?

Ther, God be wi'you, with all my Heart.

Patr. Your answer, Sir.

Ther. If to Morrow be a fair Day, by eleven a Clock, it will go one way or other; how foever, he thall pay for me e'er he has me.

Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

Ther. Fare ye well, with all my Heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out a tune thus ; what Mufick he will be in, when Hector has knockt out his Brains, I know not, But I am fure none; unless the Fidler Apollo get his Sinews to make Catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a Letter to him ftraight.

Ther. Let me carry another to his Horfe; for that's the more capable Creature.

Achil. My Mind is troubled like a Fountain stirr'd, And I my felf fee not the bottom of it.

[Exit.

Ther. Would the Fountain of your Mind were clear again, that I might water an Afs at it; I had rather be a Tick in a Sheep, than fuch a valiant Ignorance.

[Exeunt.

ACT

A C T IV. SCENE I.

Enter at one Door Æneas with a Torch, at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Anthenor, and Diomede with Torches

Por. Dei. It is the Lord Æneas,
EE ho, who is that there?

Ene. Is the Prince there in Perfon?
Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heav'nly business
Should rob my Bed-mate of my Company.

Dio. That's my Mind too: Good Morrow, Lord Æneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas, take his Hand,

Witness the process of your Speech within;

You told, how Diomede, a whole Week, by Days
Did haunt you in the Field.

Ane. Health to you, valiant Sir,
During all queftion of the gentle Truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black Defiance
As Heart can think, or Courage execute.

Dio. The one and th' other Diomede embraces.
Our Bloods are now in calm, and fo long, health;
But when Contention and Occafion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the Hunter for thy Life,
With all my Force, Purfuit and Policy.

Ene. And thou fhalt hunt a Lion that will flie
With his Face backward in human gentleness:
Welcome to Troy-
now by Anchifes's Life,
Welcome indeed- By Venus Hand I fwear,
No Man alive can love in fuch a fort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We fympathize. Jove, let Æneas live
(If to my Sword his Fate be not the glory)
A thoufand compleat courses of the Sun:
But in mine emulous Honour let him die,
With every Joint a wound, and that to Morrow.
Ane. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.

Par.

Par. This is the most defpightfull'ft, gentle Greeting; The nobleft, hateful Love, that e'er I heard of. What Business, Lord, fo early?

Ane. I was fent for to the King; but why, I know not, Par. His purpofe meets you; it was, to bring this Greek To Calchas's Houfe, and there to render him, For the enfreed Anthenor, the fair Creffid. Let's have your Company; or, if you pleafe, Hafte there before us. I conftantly do think (Or rather call my Thought a certain Knowledge) My Brother Troilus lodges there to Night. Roufe him, and give him note of our approach, With the whole Quality whereof, I fear We fhall be much unwelcome.

Æne. That I affure you.

Troilus had rather Troy were born to Greece,

Than Creffid born from Troy.

Par. There is no help;

The bitter difpofition of the time will have it fo.

On, Lord, we'll follow you.

Ene. Good Morrow all.

[Exit Aneas.

Par. And tell me, Noble Diomede; faith tell me true,

Even in the Soul of good found Fellowship,

Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen moft?

My felf, or Menelaus?

Dio. Both alike.

He merits well to have her that doth feek her,
Not making any fcruple of her Soilure,

With fuch a Hell of pain, and world of Charge.
And you as well to keep her that defend her,
Not palating the tafte of her Dishonour,
With fuch a coftly lofs of Wealth and Friends;
He, like a puling Cuckold, would drink
up
The Lees and Dregs of a flat tamed Piece;
You, like a Letcher, out of whorish Loins,
Are pleas'd to breed out your Inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more,
But he as he, with heavier for a Whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your Country-woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her Country: Hear me, Paris,
For every falfe drop in her baudy Veins

A