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Lies the true proof of Men: The Sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble Boats dare fail

Upon her patient Breaft, making their way
With thofe of noble Bulk?

But let the Ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon, behold,

The strong ribb'd Bark thro' liquid Mountains cuts,
Bounding between the two moift Elements,
Like Perfeus Horfe: Where's then the fawcy Boat,
Whose weak untimber'd fides but even now
Co-rival'd Greatnefs? Either to harbour fled,
Or made a Toft for Neptune. Even so,
Doth Valour's fhew, and Valour's worth divide
In ftorms of Fortune.

For, in her ray and brightness,

The Herd hath more annoyance by the Brize
Than by the Tyger: But, when the splitting Wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oaks,

And Flies fed under fhade, why then

The thing of Courage,

As rowz'd with rage, with rage doth fympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in felf-fame Key,
Retires to chiding Fortune.

Ulys. Agamemnon,

Thou great Commander, Nerve and Bone of Greece,
Heart of our Numbers, Soul, and only Spiri,
In whom the Tempers, and the Minds of all
Should be shut up: Hear what Ulyffes fpeaks.

Befides th' Applaufe and Approbation

The which, moft Mighty, for thy Place and Merit,[To Aga. And thou moft reverend for thy ftretcht-out Life, [ToNeft. I give to both your Speeches, which were fuch,

As Agamemnon and the Hand of Greece

Should hold up high in Brafs; and fuch again
As venerable Neftor (hatch'd in Silver)

Should with a bond of Air, ftrong as the Axle-tree
On which the Heavens ride, knit all Greeks Ears
To his experienc'd Tongue: Yet let it please both
(Thou Great and Wife) to hear Ulyffes fpeak.

Aga. Speak, Prince of Ithaca: and be't of less expect,
That matter needlefs, of importless burthen
VOL. IV.

U

Divide

Divide thy Lips; than we are confident,
When rank Therfites opes his maftiff Jaws,
We shall hear Mufick, Wit, and Oracle.

Vlyf. Troy, yet upon her Bafis, had been down,
And the great Hector's Sword had lack'd a Master,
But for thefe inftances.

The fpeciality of Rule hath been neglected;
And look how many Grecian Tents do fland
Hollow upon this Plain, fo many hollow Factions.
When that the General is not like the Hive,
To whom the Foragers fhall all repair,
What Hony is expected? Degree being vizarded,
Th'unworthieft fhews as fairly in the Mask.
The Heav'ns themselves, the Planets, and this Center,
Obferve degree, priority and place,
Infifture, courfe, proportion, feason, form,
Office and cuftom, in all line of Order:
And therefore is the glorious Planet Sol,
In noble Eminence, enthron'd and fphear'd
Amidst the other, whofe med'cinable Eye
Corrects the ill Aspects of Planets evil,
And pofts like the Command'ment of a King,
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the Planets
In evil mixture to diforder wander,

What Plagues, and what Portents, what Mutiny?
What raging of the Sea? fhaking of Earth?
Commotion in the Winds? Frights, changes, horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity, and married calm of States

Quite from their fixure ? O, when Degree is shaken,
(Which is the Ladder to all high Defigns)

The Enterprize is fick. How could Communities,
Degrees in Schools, and Brotherhoods in Cities,
Peaceful Commerce from dividable Shores,
Prerogative of Age, Crowns, Scepters, Lawrels,
(But by Degree) ftand in Authentick Place ?-
Take but degree away, untune that String,
And hark what Difcord follows; each thing meets
In meer oppugnancy. The bounded Waters
Would lift their Bofoms higher than the Shores,

And

And make a fop of all this folid Globe:
Strength would be Lord of Imbecility,

And the rude Son would ftrike his Father dead:
Force would be Right; or rather, Right and Wrong
(Between whofe endless jar Juftice refides)
Would lose their Names, and fo would Juftice too.
Then every thing includes it felf in Power,
Power into Will, Will into Appetite,
And Appetite (an univerfal Wolf,
So doubly feconded with Will and Power)
Muft make perforce an univerfal prey,
And laft, eat up himself.

Great Agamemnon,

This Chaos, when Degree is fuffocate,
Follows the choaking:

And this neglection of Degree is it,
That by a pace goes backward, in a purpose
It hath to climb. The General's difdain'd
By him one step below; he by the next;
That next by him beneath: So every ftep,
Exampled by the firft pace, that is fick
Of his Superior, grows to an envious Feaver
Of pale and bloodless Emulation.

And 'tis this Feaver that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own Sinews. To end a Tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her ftrength.
Neft. Moft wifely hath Vlyffes here difcover'd
The Feaver, whereof all our Power is fick.

Aga. The Nature of the fickness found, Vlyffes,
What is the Remedy?

Vlyf. The great Achilles, whom Opinion crowns
The Sinew, and the Fore-hand of our Hoft,
Having his Ear full of his airy Fame,

Grows dainty of his Worth, and in his Tent
Lies mocking our Defigns. With him Patroclus,
Upon a lazy Bed, the live-long day

Breaks fcurril Jefts;

And with ridiculous and aukward Action,
(Which, Slanderer, he imitation calls)

He Pageants us. Sometime, great gamemnon,
Thy topless Deputation he puts on;

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And like a ftrutting Player, whofe Conceit
Lies in his Ham-ftring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden Dialogue and Sound
'Twixt his ftretch'd footing, and the Scaffoldage,
(Such to-be-pitied, and o'er-refted seeming
He acts thy Greatnefs in) and when he speaks,
'Tis like a Chime a mending; with terms unfquar'd;
Which from the Tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would feem Hyperboles. At this fufty ftuff
The large Achilles, on his preft-bed lolling,

From his deep Cheft, laughs out a loud Applaufe:
Cries excellent!-'tis Agamemnon juft..
Now play me Neftor-hum, and ftroke thy Beard
As he, being dreft to fome Oration:

That's done; as near as the extreameft Ends
Of Parallels; as like as Vulcan and his Wife:
Yet good Achilles ftill cries, Excellent!
'Tis Neftor right! Now play him, me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a Night-alarm-

And then, forfooth, the faint defects of Age
Must be the Scene of Mirth, to cough and spit,
And with a Palfie fumbling on his Gorget,
Shake in and out the River- and at this fport,
Sir Valour dies; cries, O!—enough Patroclus
Or, give me Ribs of Steel, I fhall split all
In pleasure of my Spleen. And in this fafhion
All our Abilities, Gifts, Natures, Shapes,
Severals and generals of Grace exact,
Atchievements, Plots, Orders, Preventions,
Excitements to the Field, or fpeech for Truce,
Succefs or Lofs, what is, or is not, ferves
As ftuff for thefe two, to make Paradoxes,
Neft. And in the Imitation of these twain,
Who, as Ulyffes fays, Opinion crowns
With an Imperial Voice, many are infect:
Ajax is grown felf-will'd, and bears his Head,
In fuch a Rein, is full as, proud a place,
As broad Achilles, and keeps his Tent like him ;
Makes factious Feafts, rails on our flate of War,
Bold as an Oracle, and fets Therfites

A Slave (whofe Gall coins Slanders like a Mint)

To

To match us in Comparifons with Dirt,
To weaken and difcredit our expofure,
How rank foever rounded in with danger.

Uly. They tax our Policy, and call it Cowardife,
Count Wisdom as no Member of the War,
Fore-ftall our Prescience, and esteem no A&,
But that of Hand: The ftill and mental Parts,
That do contrive how many Hands fhall ftrike
When fitness calls them on, and know by measure
Of their obfervant Toil, the Enemies weight,
Why this hath not a Finger's dignity;

They call this Bed-work, Mapp'ry, Clofet-War :
So that the Ram, that batters down the Wall,
For the great fwing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his Hand that made the Engine,
Or thofe that with the fineness of their Souls,
By Reason guide his Execution.

Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles Horfe
Makes many Thetis' Sons.

Aga. What Trumpet? Look Menelaus.
Men. From Troy.

Enter Eneas.

Aga. What would you 'fore our Tent?

[Tucker founds.

Ene. Is this great Agamemnon's Tent, I pray you? Aga. Even this.

Ane. May one that is a Herald and a Prince, Do a fair Meffage to his Kingly Ears?

Aga. With furety ftronger than Achilles Arm,
'Fore all the Greekish Heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon Head and General.

Ene. Fair leave, and large fecurity. How may
A ftranger to thofe moft Imperial Looks,
Know them from Eyes of other Mortals?
Aga. How?

Ene. Ay: I ask, that I might waken Reverence,
And on the Cheek be ready with a blush
Modeft as Morning, when the coldly eyes

The youthful Phobus

Which is that God in Office, guiding Men ?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

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Aga.

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