And all the Greekish girls fhall tripping fing,—
Great Hector's fifter did Achilles win;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.

Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;

The fool flides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit.
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 yourself, and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloofe his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be fhook to air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour by him. Achil. I fee, my reputation is at ftake;

My fame is fhrewdly gor'd.

Patr. O, then beware;

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves:

Omiffion to do what is neceffary

Seals a commiffion to a blank of danger;

And danger, like an ague, fubtly taints

Even then when we fit idly in the fun.

Achil. Go call Therfites hither, fweet Patroclus: I'll fend the fool to Ajax, and defire him

To 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 his weeds of peace;

Seals a commiffion to a blank of danger;]-Enables that danger of difhonour, which could not reach us before, to lay hold on us-Expofes us to unknown dangers.

To

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

Enter Therfites.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, afking for himself.

Achil. How fo?

Ther. He must 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 stand: ruminates, like an hoftefs, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to fet down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who fhould say— there were wit in his head, an 'twould out; and so 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'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I faid, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land-fifh, languageless, a monster. 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 anfwering; fpeaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his prefence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you fhall fee' the pageant of Ajax.

With a politic regard,]-with an arch leer.
the pageant]-the figure, the reprefentation.

Acbil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure fafe conduct for his perfon, of the magnanimous, and most illuftrious, fix-or-feven-times-honour'd captain-general of the 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 conduct 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 o'clock it will go one way or other; howfoever, he fhall pay for

me ere he has me.

Patr. Your answer,, fir.

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.

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

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not: But, I am fure, none; unlefs the fiddler Apollo get his finews to make catlings on.

t

Achil. Come, thou fhalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

catlings]-fiddle-strings.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself fee not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt Achilles, and Patroclus. 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 fheep, than fuch a valiant ignorance.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Street in Troy.

Enter at one door Eneas, and Servant, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus. Antenor, and Diomed, &c. with torches.

Par. See, ho! who is that there?

Dei. It is the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in perfon ?—

Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nought but heavenly bufinefs

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:

Witnefs the procefs of your fpeech, wherein

You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Ene. Health to you, valiant fir,

* During all question of the gentle truce:

But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can think, or courage execute.

During all question of the gentle truce:]-This interval of converfe indulged to mutual civilities.

Dio. The one and other Diomed 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.

W

Ene. And thou fhalt hunt a lion, that will fly

With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchifes' 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 fword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courfes of the fun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow!,
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.
Par. This is the most despightful gentle greeting,
The nobleft hateful love, that e'er I heard of.-
What bufinefs, lord, fo early?

Æne. I was fent for to the king; but why, I know

X

not.

Par. His purpofe meets you; 'Twas to bring this

Greek

To Calchas' houfe; and there to render him
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Creffid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
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,

w With his face backward.]-Fighting as he retreats.
* His purpose meets you;]-I bear you his orders.