impothume, fciatica's, lime-kilns i'th' palme, incurable bone-ach, and the rivell'd fee-fimple of the tetter, take and take again fuch prepofterous discoveries. Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meaneft thou to curfe thus ? Ther. Do I curfe thee? Part. Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whorfon indiftinguishable cur. Ther. No why art thou then exafperate, thou idle immaterial skein of fley'd filk, thou green farcenet flap for a fore eye, thou taffel of a prodigal's purfe, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pefter'd with fuch water-flies, diminutives of Nature. Part. Out, gall! Ther. Finch-egg! 1 Achil. My fweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpofe in to morrow's battle: Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my fair love, An oath that I have fworn. I will not break it; [Ex. Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two may run mad: but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honeft fellow enough, and one that loves quails, (26) but he hath not so much brain as ear-wax; and (25) And one that loves Quails,] This I take to be an obfcure Paffage, not very commonly understood, and therefore may deserve a Note of Explanation. Therfites, is every where scurrilous, and scandalous in his Observations upon the Greeks. He abufes Menelaus for a ftupid Cuckold; and with the fame Freedom, I apprehend, here he is charging Agamemnon with being a Wencher; in saying, he is a Lover of Quails. But what Confonance, may it not be ask'd, is there, betwixt Quails, and a Mistress Rabelais, in the Prologue to his 4th Book, speaks of Cailles and the goodly tranformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, (the primitive ftatue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds ;) a thrifty fhooing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg; to what form, but that he is, fhould wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him? to an afs were nothing, he is both afs and ox; to an ox were nothing, he is both ox and afs; to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care but to be Menelaus, I would confpire against Detiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Therfites; for I care not, to be the lowfe of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus Hey-day, fpirits and fires! Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulyffes Neftor, and Diomede, with lights. Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong. Ajax. No, yonder 'tis; there, where we fee the light. Hect. I trouble you. Ajax. No, not a whit. Enter Achilles. Ulyf. Here comes himself to guide you. Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all. Aga. So, now fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the Guard to tend on you. Heat. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks' General. Men. Good night, my lord. Heat. Good night, fweet lord Menelaus. Ther. Sweet draught-fweet, quoth a — fweet fewer. fweet fink, Achil. Good night, and welcome, both at once, to Thofe That go or tarry. Cailles coiphées mignonnement chantans; which Motteux, Ifind, has tranflated, Coated Quails, and laced Mutton, waggifbly finging.(Of laced Mutton I have already spoken in a Note on the Two Gent. of Verona:] And Cotgrave, in his French Dictionary, feems to have had his Eye on this Faffage, when he explains Cailles coiffées, Women. Aga. Aga. Good night. Achil. Old Neftor tarries, and you too, Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two. Dio. I cannot, lord, I have important business, The tide whereof is now; good night, great Hector. Hect. Give me your hand. Uly. Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company. Troi. Sweet Sir, you honour me. Het. And fo,. good night. [To Troilus. [Exeunt. Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. Ther. That fame Diomede's a falfe-hearted rogue, a most unjuft knave: I will no more truft him when he leers, than I will a ferpent when he hiffes: he will spend his mouth and promife, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, aftronomers foretel it, that it is prodigious, there will come fome change: the Sun borrows of the Moon, when Diomede keeps his word. I will rather leave to fee Hector, than not to dog him: they fay, he keeps a Trojan drab, and ufes the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after-Nothing but letchery; all incontinent varlets. Dio. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Calchas's Tent. Enter Diomede. THAT are you up here, ho? fpeak. WHA Cal. Who calls? Dio. Diomede; Calchas I think; where's your daughter? Cal. She comes to you. Enter Troilus and Ulyffes, after them Therfites. Ulys. Stand where the torch may not discover us. Troi. Crefid come forth to him? Dio. How now, my charge? Cre. Now, my fweet guardian; hark, a word with you. Troi. Yea, fo familiar? Uly. She will fing to any man at first fight. [Whispers. Ther. Ther. And any man may fing to her, if he can take her cliff. She's noted. Dio. Will you remember? Cre. Remember? yes. Dio. Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words. Troi. What fhould fhe remember? Uly. Lift. Cre. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. Ther. Roguery Dio. Nay, then, Cre. I'll tell you what. Dio. Pho! pho! come, tell a pin, you are a forfworn-Cre. In faith, I can't: what would you have me do? Ther. A jugling trick, to be fecretly open. Dio. What did you fwear you would bestow on me? Cre. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. Dio. Good night. Troi. Hold, patience Ulyf. How now, Trojan ? Cre. Diomede, Dio. No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more. Trai. Thy Better must. Cre. Hark, one word in your ear. Troi. O plague, and madness! Ulys. You are mov'd, Prince; let us depart, I pray you, Left your difpleasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; The time right deadly: I befeech you, go. Troi. Behold, I pray you Uly Good my lord, go off: You fly to great distraction: come, my lord. Troi. I pr'ythee, stay. Ulys. You have not patience; come. Troi. I pray you, stay; by hell, and by hell's torments, I will not speak a word. Dio. And fo, good night. Cre. Nay, but you part in anger? Troi. Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth! Uly. Why, how now, lord? Troi. By Jove, I will be patient. Cre. In faith, I do not: come hither once again. You will break out. Troi. She ftrokes his cheek. Ulyf. Come, come. Troi. Nay, ftay; by Jove, I will not speak a word. There is between my will and all offences A guard of patience: ftay a little while. Ther. How the devil luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together! fry, letchery, fry !— Dio. But will you then? Cre. In faith, I will, la; never truft me else. Dio. Give me fome token for the furety of it. Ulyf. You have fworn patience. Troi. Fear me not, fweet lord, I will not be myself, nor have cognition Re-enter Creffida. Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now. Troi. I will be patient, outwardly, I will. [Exit. Cre. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well: He lov'd me: O falfe wench! Dio. Whofe was't? -Give't me again. Cre. It is no matter, now I have't again. I will not meet with you to morrow night: Ther. Now the fharpens: well faid, whetstone. Cre. What, this? Dio. Ay, that. Cre. O, all ye Gods! O pretty, pretty pledge; Thy mafter now lyes thinking in his bed Of thee and me, and fighs, and takes my glove, And |