Good arms, ftrong joints, true fwords; and, Jove's
Accord,

Nothing fo full of heart. But peace, Æneas;
Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips;
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If he, that's prais'd, himself bring the praise forth :
What the repining enemy commends,

That breath Fame blows, that praise fole pure transcends.
Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas? .
Ene. Ay, Greek, that is my name.

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

Ene. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

Aga. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy. Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him;

I bring a trumpet to awake his Ear,

To fet his fenfe 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.

Ene. 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 spoke 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 bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'it of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease,
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,

Circumftance, added, brings no Impeachment to their Courage: Valour would become Prefumption and Impiety in them, if they had trufted to it when Jove manifeftly declared himself on the other Sice. My Regulation of the Pointing fixes the Poet's Senfe; and 'tis every where his Manner to mention the Concurrence of the Deity fuppos'd.

That

That knows his valour and knows not his fear,
That loves his mistress 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 Troy,
To rouze 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 fun-burn'd, and not worth
The splinter of a lance; -even fo much.
Aga. This fhall be told our lovers, Lord Æneas.
If none of them have foul in fuch a kind,
We've left them all at home: but we are foldiers;
And may that foldier 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 elfe, I'm he.
Neft. Tell him of Neftor; one, that was a man
When Hector's Grandfire fuckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian Hoft
One noble man that hath one spark of fire,
To answer for his love: tell him from me,
I'll hide my filver 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 in flood,

I'll

pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.
ne. Now heav'ns forbid fuch fcarcity of youth!
Ulyf. Amen.

Aga. Fair Lord Æneas,
To our Pavilion fhall I lead

let me touch your

you

first:

Achilles fhall have word of this intent,

hand:

So fhall each Lord of Greece from tent to tent:

Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.

Ulyf. Neftor,

Manent Ulyffes and Neftor.

Neft. What fays Ulyffes?

Ulyf. I have a young conception in my brain,
Be you my time to bring it to fome shape.
Neft. What is't?

Ulys. 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?

[Exeunt.

Uly. This Challenge that the gallant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general name,

Relates in purpofe only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous ev'n as Substance, (8)

(8) The purpofe is perfpicuous ev'n as Subfiance,

Whofe Groffness Little Characters fum up,

And in the Publication make no Strain:] The modern Editors, 'tis plain, have lent each other very little Information upon this Faffage : Tuphòs Tupha ódny's, as the Proverb fays; the Blind have led the Blind. As they have pointed the Paffage, 'tis ftrange Stuff; and how they folv'd it to themfelves, is paft my Discovery. That little Characters, or Particles, fum up the Groffness of any Substance, I conceive: but how thofe Characters, or Particles, make no Strain in the Publication, feems a little harder than Algebra. My Regulation of the Pointing brings us to clear Sense; "The Aim and Purpose of this "Duel is as vifible as any grofs Subftance can be, compounded of "many little Particles:" And having faid thus, Ulyffes goes on to another Obfervation; "And make no Difficulty, no Doubt, when • this Duel comes to be proclaim'd, but that Achilles, dull as he is, << will difcover the Drift of it." This is the Meaning of the laft Line. So afterwards, in this Play, Ulyffes fays,

I do not strain at the Pofition,

i. e. I do not hesitate at. I make no Difficulty of it.

Whofe

Whofe groffness little characters fum up.
And, in the publication, make no strain,
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, (tho', Apollo knows,

'Tis dry enough,) will with great speed of judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Uly. And wake him to the answer, think you?
Neft. Yes, 'tis most meet; whom may you elfe oppose,
That can from Hector bring his honour off,

If not Achilles? though a fportful combat,
Yet in this trial much opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans tafte our dear'st Repute
With their fin'ft palate: and truft to me, Ulyffes,
Our imputation fhall be odly pois'd
In this wild action. For the fuccefs,
Although particular, shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general:
An in fuch indexes, although small 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 act of all our fouls,
Makes merit her election; and doth boil,
As 'twere, from forth us all, a man distill'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 fwords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

Uly. Give pardon to my Speech;

'Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, fhew our fouleft wares,
And think, perchance, they'll fell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to fhew,
Shall fhew the better. Do not then confent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet:
For both our honour and our shame in this

Are dogg'd with two strange followers.

Neft. I fee them not with my old eyes: what are they? Uly. What Glory our Achilles fhares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share 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 best man. No, make a Lott'ry;

And by device let blockish Ajax draw

The Sort to fight with Hector: 'mong our felves,
Give him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall
His creft, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come fafe off,
We'll drefs him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion ftill,

That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this fhape of Senfe affumes,
Ajax, imploy'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Neft. Ulyffes, now I relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon; go we to him straight;
Two curs fhall tame each other; pride alone
Muft tar the maftiffs on, as 'twere their bone. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE, the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Therfites.

HER SITES,

TH

AJAX.

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boiles-full,

all over, generally. Ajax. Therfites,

[Talking to himself.

Ther.