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O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in
present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours: For time is like a fashionable lost, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand; And with his arms out stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue
seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past; And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'er.dusted. The present eye praises the present object : Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; Since things in motion sooner catch the eye, Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, And still it might; and yet it may again, If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive, And case thy reputation in thy tent; Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, Made emulous missions t 'mongst the gods them
selves, And drave great Mars to faction. Achil.
Of this my privacy I have strong reasons. Ulyss.
• But'gainst your privacy The reasons are more potent and heroical : 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
# New-fashioned toys.
+ The descent of the deities to combat on either side.
With one of Priam's daughters*.
Ha ! known?
(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 stand condemn'd for this They think, my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus : Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck anloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. Achil.
Shall fight with Hector? Patr. Ay; and, rerhaps, receive much honour
Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake;
.. , then beware;
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus : I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
Achil. How so?
Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.
Achil. How can that be? .
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politick regard, as who should say there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show 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 said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Aga. memnon. What think you of this man, that takes
me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.
Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Ther. sites.
Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you sball see the pageant of Ajax. • Achil. To him, Patroclus : Tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnani. mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Aga. memnon. Do this.
Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.
Patr. Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent!
Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.
Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. Patr. Your answer, sir. 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 knocked out his
brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him
straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capablet creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain
stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Ereunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance,
SCENE I. Troy. A street.
Enter, at one side, Æneas and Servant, with a
'Tis the lord Æneas.
* Lute-strings made of catgut.