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Ther. Here is such patchery, such jugling, and such knavery: all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon: now the dry Serpigo on the subject, and war and lecbery confound all!

[Exit. Aga. Where is Achilles ? Pat. Within his tent, but ill-dispos'd, my lord.

.
Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
* He fhent our messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of bim :
Let him be told so, left, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place ;
Or know not what we are.
Pat. I fall so fay to him.

(Exit. Ulyd. We faw him at the opening of his tent, He is not fick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-fick, sick of a proud heart : you. may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride; but why, why ? -let him fhew us the cause. A word, my lord.

(To Agamemnon. Neft. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? Ulyf. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. Neft. Who, Therfites ?

Ulyl. He.

Neft. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.

Ulyj. No, you fee, he is his argument, that has his argument, Achilles.

Neft. All the better ; their fraction is more our will ihan their faction ; but it was a strong counsel, that a fool could disunite.

Ulyl. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.

* He Sent our messengers. --] This Nonsense should be read, He Shent our Messengers-i. . rebuked, rated. Warb.

S.CEN E

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Here comes Patroclus.
Neft. No Achilles with him ?

[tesy; Ulyl. The elephant hath joints, but none for courHis legs are for necessity, not flexure.

Pat. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness, and this noble state,
To call on him ; he hopes, it is no other,
But for your health and your digestion-sake;
An after-dinner's breath.

Aga. Here you, Patroclus;
We are too well acquainted with these answers :
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
And like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish
Are like to rot untafted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him ; and you

shall not fin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
In self-affumption greater than in note
Of judgment : say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the favage ftrangeness he puts on,
- Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-go in an observing kind
His humorous predominance - yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs and flows ; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price so much,
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine

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Not portable, lie under this report,
Bring adion bither, this can't go to war :
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a sleeping giant; tell him lo.

Pat. I shall, and bring his answer presently. [Exit,

Aga. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him. Ulyses, enter.

Exit Ulysses. Ajax. What is he more than another ? Aga. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much ? do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am ?

Aga. No question.

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say, he is ?

Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as ftrong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more-tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud ? how doth pride grow? I know not what it is.

Aga. Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer ; he, that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

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Re-enter Ulysses.
Do hate a proud man, as I hate the engend-

Ajax. I

Nefi. Yet he loves himself : is't not strange ?
Uls. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Aga. :What's his excufe ?

Uly. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without obfervance or respect of any,

In will-peculiar, and in self-admission.

Aga. Why will be not, upon our fair request, Un-tent his person, and share the air with us ?. Uly. Things small as nothing, for request's fake

only,
He makes important : he's pofleft with greatness,
And speaks not to bimself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath, Imagin’d worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom’d Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, no recovery.

Aga. Let Ajax go to him.
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent;
'Tis said, he holds you well, and will be led
Ar your request a litile from himself.

Uly0, Agamemnon, let it not be so.
We'll consecrate the feps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, (save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself,) shall he be worshipp'd
Of That, we hold an idol more than he ?
No, this thrice-worthy and right-valiant.lord
Must not so ftale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
(As amply titled, as Achilles is.) by going to Achilles:
That were e'inlard his pride, already fat,
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him? Jupiter forbid,
And day in thunder, Achilles go to him!

Neft. O, this is well, he rubs the vein of him. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!

Ajax. it I go to bim with my armed fist I'll paih him o'er the face.

Aga.

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Aga. O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheese his pride: let me go to him.

Uly]. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax. A paltry insolent fellow-
Neft. How he describes himself!
Ajax. Can he not be fociable ?
Ulys. The raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his humours blood.

stient.
Aga. He'll be the physician, that should be the pa-
Ajax. And all men were o' my mind-
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. He should not bear it so, he should eat swords first: sball pride carry it?

Neft. An 'twould, you'd carry half.
Ulys. He would have ten shares.

Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him suppleNeft. He is not yet through warm : force him with praises ; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

Uly. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Neft. Our noble General, do not do so.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Ulyd. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a nian but 'tis before his face-
I will be silent.

Neft. Wherefore should you so ?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulyl. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whoreson dog! that palters thus with us-,
Would he were a Trojan!

Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now
Ulyf. If he were proud.
Dio. Or covetous of praise.
Ulyf. Ay, or furly borne.
Dio. Or ftrange, or felf-affected.

[posure; Ulys. Thank the heav'ns, lord, thou art of sweet com* Ajax. I will knead him, r'll make him supple, he's not yet through warm.] The latter Part of this Speech should be given to Neftor.

Praise

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