Hect. It is Caffandra.

Caf. Cry, Trojans, cry; lend me ten thousand Eyes, And I will fill them with prophetick Tears.

Helt. Peace, Sifter, Peace.

Caf. Virgins and Boys, mid-Age and wrinkled Old,
Soft Infancy, that nothing can but cry,
Add to my Clamour: Let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mafs of Moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry, practise your Eyes with Tears,
Troy mult not be, nor goodly Ilion stand,
Our Fire-brand Brother Paris burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry, a Helen and a Wo;
Cry, cry, Troy burns, or elfe let Helen go.

[Exit.

Het. Now, youthful Troilus, do not the high Strains Of Divination in our Sifter work

Some touches of Remorfe? Or is your
Blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of Reason,
Nor fear of bad Succefs in a bad Caufe,
Can qualifie the fame?

Troi. Why, Brother Hellor,

We may not think the juftnefs of each act
Such and no other than Event doth form it;
Nor once deject the Courage of our Minds,
Becaufe Caffandra's mad; her brain-fick Raptures
Cannot diftaste the goodness of a Quarrel,
Which hath our feveral Honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's Sons,
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest Spleen,
To fight for, and maintain.

Par. Elfe might the World convince of Levity,
As well my Undertakings, as your Counfels :
But I atteft the Gods, your full confent
Gave Wings to my Propenfion, and cut off
All Fears attending on fo dire a Project.
For what, alas, can thefe my fingle Arms?
What Propugnation is in one Man's Valour,
To ftand the Puth and Enmity of thofe
This Quarrel would excite? Yet, I proteft,

Wer:

Were I alone to pass the Difficulties,

And had as ample Power, as I have Will,

Paris fhould ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the purfuit.

Pri. Paris, you speak

Like one befotted on your fweet Delights;
You have the Hony ftill, but these the Gall,
So to be Valiant, is no praife at all.

Par. Sir, I propofe not meerly to my felf,
The Pleasures fuch a Beauty brings with it:
But I would have the Soil of her fair Rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What Treafon were it to the ranfack'd Queen,
Difgrace to your great Worths, and Shame to me,
Now to deliver her Poffeffion up,

On terms of base Compulfion? Can it be,
That fo degenerate a strain as this,

Should once fet foot within your generous Bofoms?
There's not the meaneft Spirit on our Party,
Without a Heart to dare, or Sword to draw,
When Helen is defended: Nor none fo Noble,
Whofe Life were ill beftow'd, or Death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the Subject. Then, I fay,
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The World's large Spaces cannot parallel.

Hec. Paris and Troilus, you have both faid well
And on the Caufe and Question, now in hand,
Have glofs'd, but fuperficially; not much
Unlike young Men, whom graver Sages think
Unfit to hear moral Philofophy.

The Reasons you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot Paffion of diftemper'd Blood,
Than to make up a free Determination

'Twixt Right and Wrong: For Pleafure and Revenge,
Have Ears more deaf than Adders, to the voice

Of any true Decifion. Nature craves

All Dues be rendred to their Owners; now
What nearer Debt in all Humanity,

Than Wife is to the Husband? If this Law
Of Nature be corrupted through Affection,
VÓ L. IV.

X

And

And that great Minds, of partial Indulgence
To their benummed Wills, refift the fame,
There is a Law in each well-ordered Nation,
To curb thofe raging Appetites that are
Moft difobedient and refractory.

If Helen then be Wife to Sparta's King,
(As it is known fhe is) thefe moral Laws
Of Nature, and of Nations, fpeak aloud
To have her back return'd. Thus to perfift
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,

But makes it much more heavy. Hector's Opinion
Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless,
My fpritely Brethren, I propend to you

In refolution to keep Helen ftill;

For 'tis a Cause that hath no mean dependance,

Upon our joint and feveral Dignities.

Troi. Why there, you touch'd the Life of our Defigns: Were it not Glory that we more affected,

Than the performance of our heaving Spleens,

I would not with a drop of Trojan Blood
Spent more in her Defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a Theam of Honour and Renown,
A Spur to valiant and magnanimous Deeds,
Whose present Courage may beat down our Foes,
And Fame, in time to come, canonize us.
For I prefume, brave Hector would not lofe
So rich advantage of a promis'd Glory,
As fmiles upon the Forehead of this Áction,
For the wide World's Revenue.

Helt. I am yours,

You valiant Off-fpring of great Priamus,
I have a roifting Challenge fent amongst
The dull and factious Nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike Amazement to their drowfie Spirits.
I was advertis'd, their great General flept,
Whilft Emulation in the Army crept:
This I prefume will wake him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCÈNE II. The Grecian Camp.

Enter Thersites folus.

How now, Therfites? what, loft in the Labyrinth of thy Fury? Shall the Elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats. me, and I rail at him: O worthy Satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilft he rail'd at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to Conjure and raife Devils, but I'll fee fome iffue of my fpiteful Execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare Engineer. If Troy be not taken 'till these two undermine it, the Walls will ftand 'till they fall of themselves. O thou great Thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the King of Gods; and Mercury, lofe all the Serpentine Craft of thy Caduceus, if thou take not that little, little, lefs than little, wit from them that they have, which thort-arm'd Ignorance it felf knows, is_fo abundant scarce, it will not in Circumvention deliver a Fly from a Spider, without drawing the maffy Irons and cutting the Web After this, the Vengeance on the whole Camp, or rather the Bone-ach, for that, methinks, is the Curfe dependant on thofe that war for a Placket. I have faid my Prayers, and Devil, Envy, fay Amen. What ho? my Lord Achilles?

Enter Patroclus.

Patr. Who's there? Therfites. Good Therfites, come in and rail.

Ther. If I could have remembred à gilt Counter, thou would't not have flip'd out of my Contemplation, but it is no matter, thy felf upon thy felf. The common Curfe of Mankind, Folly and Ignorance be thine in great Revenue; Heav'n blefs thee from a Tutor, and Difcipline come not near thee. Let thy Blood be thy direction 'till thy Death, then if the that lays thee out, fays thou art a fair Coarfe I'll be fworn and fworn upon't, fhe never throwded any but Lazars, Amen. Where's Achilles ?

Patr. What, art thou devout? waft thou in a Prayer?
Ther. Ay, the Heav'ns hear me.

Enter Achilles,

Achil. Who's there?

Patr. Therfites, my Lord.

X 2

Achit

Achil. Where, where ? art thou come? why, my Cheese, my Digeftion-why haft thou not ferved thy felf up to my Table, fo many Meals? Come, what's Agamemnon ?

Ther. Thy Commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?

Patr. Thy Lord, Therfites: then tell me,

what's thy felf?

I pray

thee,

Ther. Thy Knower, Patroclis: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patr. Thou may't tell, that know'ft.

Achil. O tell, tell.

Ther. I'll decline the whole Queftion. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus's Knower, and Patroclus is a Fcol.

Patr. You Rafcal

Ther. Peace, Fool, I have done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd Man. Proceed, Therfites. Ther. Agamemnon is a Fool, Achilles is a Fool, Therfites is a Fool, and, as aforefaid, Patroclus is a Fool.

Achil. Derive this; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a Fool to offer to command Achilles, Achilles is a Fool to be commanded of Agamemnon, Therfites is a Fool to serve fuch a Fool, and Patroclus is a Fool pofitive.

Patr. Why am I a Fool?

Enter Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Neftor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Chalcas.

Ther. Make that demand to thy Creator, it fuffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, I'll fpeak with no Body: Come in with me, Therfites.

[Exit.

Ther. Here is fuch Patchery, fuch Jugling, and fuch Knavery all the Argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a good quarrel to draw emulatious Factions, and bleed to Death upon Now the dry Serpigo on the Subject, and War and Lechery confound all.

Aga. Where is Achilles?

Patr. Within his Tent, but ill difpos'd, my Lord.
Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.

He fent our Meffengers, and we lay by

Our Appertainments, vifiting of him:

Let