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thinks, is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles !

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

Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt counter, thou couldīt not have flipp'd out of my contemplation ; but it is no matter, thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction 'till thy death, then if she, that lays thee out, says thou art a fair coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't

, she never shrowdany

but Lazars; Amen. Where's Achilles ? Pair. What, art thou devout? waft thou in prayer: Ther. Ay, the heav'ns hear me!

Enter Achilles.
Achil. Who's there?
Patr. Therfites, my Lord.

Achil. Where, where ? art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion why haft thou not ferved thyself up to my table, so many meals come, what's Agamemnon!

Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ; then tell me, Pas troclus, what's Achilles ?

Patr. Thy Lord, Therfites : then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?

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

Patr. Thou may'st tell, that know'it.
Achil. O tell, tell,

Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus's knower, and Patroclus is a fool.

Patr. You rascal
Ther. Peace, fool, I have not done.
Achil. He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Therfites.

Ther.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Therfites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, 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, Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.

Patr. Why am I a fool ?

Ther. Make that demand to thy creator ; - it fuffices me, thou art.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulyfies, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax,

and Calchas. Look you,

who comes here? Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me, Therftes.

[Exit. Ther. Here is such patchery, fuch juggling, and such knavery: all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon: now the dry Serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all !

[Exit. Aga. Where is Achilles ? Patr. Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my Lord.

Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
He fhent our messengers, and we lay by (12)
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Let him be told fo, left, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place;
Or know not what we are.
Patr. I shall fo say to him.

[Exit. Ulyf. We saw him at the op’ning of his tent, He is not fick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-fick, fick of a proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by

(12) He sent our Meffingers;] Who sent, in the Name of Accuracy? What! did Achilles send the Messengers, who were fent by Agamemnon? I make no doubt, but the Poet wrote i

He fhent our Messengers; i. e. rebuked, ill-treated, rated out of his Presence.

my

my head, 'tis pride ; but why, why? - let him fhew us the cause. A word, my Lord. [To Agamemnon.

Neft What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulyf. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Neft. Who, T her fites?
Ulf. He.

Neft. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.

Ulys. No, you fee, he is his argument, that has his argument, Achilles.

Neft. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction; but it was a strong counsel, that a fool could disunite.

Ulys. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untye.

Enter Patroclus. Here comes Patroclus.

Neft. No Achilles with him?
Ulys. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy;
His legs are for neceffity, not flexure.

Patr. Achilles bids me say, he is much forry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness, and this noble state,
To call on him; he hopes, it is no other,
But for your health and your digestion-sake;
An after-dinner's breath.

Aga. Hear you, Patroclus ;
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehenfions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their glofs ;
And, like fair fruit in an unwholsome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not fin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
In self-assumption greater than in note

Of

Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the favage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-go in an observing kind
His humourous predominance; yea, watch
His course and times, his ebbs and flows; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price fo much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report,
“! Bring action hither, this can't go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
“ Before a sleeping gyant;" tell him fo.
Patr. I shall

, and bring his answer presently. [Exit., Aga. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him. Ulyses, enter.

[Exit Ulyfies. Ajax. What is he more than another? Aga. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much? do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am:

Aga. No queftion.
Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and fay, he is?

Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud ? how doth pride grow? I know not what it is.

Aga. Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer ; he, that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glafs, his own trumpet, his own chronicle ; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Re-enter Ulysses. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendring of toads.

Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

Aga.

Aga. What's his excuse?

Ulys. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without obfervance or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in felf-admission.

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his person, and share the air with us?

Ulys. Things small as nothing, for request's fake only,
He makes important: he's poffeft with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, no recovery.

Aga. Let Ajax go to him.
Dear Lord, go you and greet him in his tent;
'Tis faid, he holds you well, and will be led
At your request a little from himself.

Ulys. o, Agamemnon, let it not be fo.
We'll consecrate the iteps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud Lord,
That baites his arrogance with his own seam,
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, (save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself,) shall he be worship’d
Of that, we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice-worthy and right-valiant Lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir’d;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
(As amply titled, as Achilles is,) by going to Achilles :
That were t'inlard his pride, already fat,
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This Lord go to him? Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder, Achilles, go to him!

Nef. O, this is well, he rubs the vein of him. Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applause !

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