Aga. This Trojan Tcorns us, or the Men of Troy Are ceremonious Courtiers.

Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending Angels; that's their Fame, in peace: But when they would feem Soldiers, they have Galls, Good Arms, ftròng Joints, true Swords, and Jove's accord, Nothing fo full of Heart. But peace, Eneas, Peace Trojan, lay thy Finger on thy Lips, The worthinefs of Praife diftains his worth, If that he prais'd himfelf, bring the Praife forth: What the repining Enemy commends,

That breath Fame blows, that Praise fole pure tranfcends. Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you your felf, Æneas?

Ane. Ay, Greek, that is my Name.

Aga. What's your Affair, I pray you?

Ane. Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's Ears.
Aga. He hears nought privately

That comes from Troy.

Ane. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him, I bring a Trumpet to awake his Ear,

To fet his Sense on the attentive bent,

And then to speak.

Aga. Speak frankly as the Wind,

It is not Agamemnon's fleeping hour;
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee fo himself.

Ane. Trumpet blow loud:

Send thy brafs Voice thro' all thefe lazy Tents,
And every Greek of Mettle. let him know
What Troy means fairly, fhall be fpoke aloud.

[The Trumpets found.

We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy,
A Prince call'd Hector, Priam is his Father:
Who in this dull and long continu'd Truce
Is rufty grown, he bad me take a Trumpet,
And to this purpofe fpeak: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'ft of Greece,
That holds his Honour higher than his Eafe,
That feeks his Praife, more than he fears his Peril,
That knows his Valour, and knows not his Fear,
That loves his Miftrefs more than in Confeffion,

(With truant Vows to her own Lips he loves)
And dare avow her Beauty and her Worth,
In other Arms than hers; to him this Challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a Lady, wifer, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his Arms,
And will to Morrow with his Trumpet call,
Midway between your Tents, and Walls of Tray,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in love.

If

any come, Hector fhall Honour him:

If none, he'll fay in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian Dames are Sun-burnt, and not worth
The fplinter of a Lance; even fo much.

Aga. This fhall be told our Lovers, Lord Æneas.
If none of them have Soul in fuch a kind,

We have left them all at home: But weare Soldiers;
And may that Soldier a meer Recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love;
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none, I'll be he.
Neft. Tell him of Neftor; one that was a Man
When Hector's Granfire fuckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mold,
One Nobleman, that hath one spark of Fire,
To answer for his Love; tell him from me,
I'll hide my Silver Beard in a Gold Beaver,
And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd brawn,
And meeting him, will tell him, that my Lady
Was fairer than his Grandam, and as chafte
As may be in the World; his Youth is food,
pawn this truth with my three drops of Blood.
Ene. Now Heav'ns forbid such scarcity of Youth,
Ulys. Amen.

I'll

Aga. Fair Lord Æneas,

Let me touch your Hand:

To our Pavillion fhall I lead you firft:

Achilles fhall have word of this Intent,

So fhall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent:
Your felf fhall feaft with us before you go,

And find the welcome of a Noble Foe.

U 4

[Exeunt

Manent

Manent Ulysses and Neftor.

Vlyf. Neftor.

Neft. What fays Ulysses?

Vlys. I have a young Conception in my Brain,
Be you my time to bring it to fome shape.
Neft. What is't?
Vlyf. This 'tis :

Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the feeded Pride
That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt,
Or, fhedding, breed a Nursery of like evil
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how now?

Vlyf. This Challenge that the valiant Hector fends,
However it is fpread in general Name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous even as Substance,
Whofe groffness little Characters fum up,
And in the publication make no frain:
But that Achilles, were his Brain as barren
As Banks of Lybia, tho', Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough, will with great fpeed of Judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Vlyf. And wake him to the Anfwer, think you?
Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you else oppose
That can from Hector bring his Honour off,

If not Achilles? Though't be a fportful Combat,
Yet in this Trial much Opinion dwells.

For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'ft Palate: And truft to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation fhall be odly poiz'd

In this wild Action. For the fuccefs,
Although particular, fhall have a fcantling
Of good or bad, unto the General:
And in fuch Indexes, although fmall Pricks
To their fubfequent Volumes, there is feen
The baby figure of the Giant-mass

Of things to come at large. It is fuppos'd,
He that meets Hector, iffues from our choice;
And choice being mutual a& of all our Souls,

Makes

Makes Merit her Election, and doth boil
As 'twere from forth us all; a Man diftill'd
Out of our Virtues; who mifcarrying,

What Heart from hence receives the conqu'ring part
To fteel a ftrong Opinion to themselves,
Which entertain'd, Limbs are his Inftruments,
In no lefs working, than are Swords and Bows
Directive by the Limbs.

Vlyf. Give pardon to my Speech:

Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector:
Let us, like Merchants, fhew our fowleft Wares,
And think perchance they'll fell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to fhew,
Shall fhew the better. Do not confent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet:

For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two ftrange Followers,

Neft. I fee them not with my old Eyes: What are they? Vlyf. What glory our Achilles fhares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all fhould wear with him:

But he already is too infolent;

"

And we were better parch in Africk Sun
Than in the pride and falt fcorn of his Eyes,
Should he fcape Hector fair. If he were foil'd,
Why then we did our main Opinion crush
In taint of our beft Man. No, make, a Lott'ry,
And by device let blockish Ajax draw

The fort to fight with Hector: Among our felves,
Give him allowance as the worthier Man,
For that will Phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applaufe, and make him fall
His Creft, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come fafe off,
We'll dress him up in Voices; if he fail,
Yet go we under our Opinion ftil',

That we have better Men. But hit or miss,
Our Projects life this fhape of fenfe affumes,
Ajax imploy'd, plucks down Achilles Plumes.
Neft. Now Vlyffes, I begin to relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him ftreight;

Two

Two Curs fhall tame each other; Pride alone
Muft tar the Mastiffs on, as 'twere their Bone.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.
SCENE the Grecian Camp.

Ajax. T

Enter Ajax and Therfites.

Herfites.

Ther. Agamemnon -how if he had Biles

full, all over generally.

Ajax. Therfites.

[Talking to himself.

Ther. And thofe Biles did run-fay fo---did not the General run, were not that a Botchy core?

Ajax. Dog.

Ther. Then there would come fome matter from him: I fee none now.

Ajax. Thou Bitch-Wolf's Son, canft thou not hear? Feel then, [Strikes him. Ther. The Plague of Greece upon thee, thou Mungrel beef-witted Lord.

Ajax. Speak then, you whinid'ft leaven, speak, I will beat thee into handfomnefs.

Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think thy Horfe will fooner con an Oration, than thou learn a Prayer without Book: Thou canft ftrike, canft thou? A red Murrain o'thy Jades tricks.

Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the Proclamation.

Ther. Doeft thou think I have no fenfe, thou strik’st me Ajax. The Proclamation.

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a Fool, I think.

[thus?

Ajax. Do not Porcupine, do not; my Fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didst itch from Head to Foot, and I had the fcratching of thee, I would make thee the loathfom'ft fcab in Greece.

Ajax. I fay, the Proclamation.

Ther. Thou grumbleft and raileft every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatnefs, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's Beauty. I, that thou bark'ft at him.