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culd's not have slipt out of my contemplation : but it
Pat. What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?:
Achil. Where, where ? art thou come, why, my cheese, my digestion why hast thou not served thyself up to my table, so many meals? Come, what's A. gamemnon !
Ther. Thy commander, Achilles : then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles ? Pat. Thy Lord, Therfites : then tell me, 1
pray thee, what's thyself?
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patro... clus, what art thon?
Pat. Thou may't tell that know'st.
Ther, I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patro.. clus's knower, and Patroclus is a fool
Pat. You rascal.
Ther, Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, There sites 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 Aga: memnon; Therfites is a fool to serve such a fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive.
Pat. Why am ka fool ?
Ther. Make that demand to thy Creator ;-it suf: aces me thou art.,
S CE N E
VI. Enter Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax,
and Calchas. Look you, who comes here?
Achil, Fatroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me, Therfites.
[Exit. Ther, Here is fuch patchery, such juggling, and such knavery : all the argument is: a cuckold and á uhore, a good quarrel to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon : Dow the dry Serpigo on the futject, and war and lechery confound all!
[Exita Aza, Where is Achilles ? Pat Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my Lord.
Aga Let it be known to him that we are here,
[Exit. Ulyl. We law him at the opening of his tent, He is not fick
Ajax Yes, lion sick, fick of a proud heart : you may call it melanı holy, if you will tavour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride; but why, why?-let him thew us the caule.
A word, my Lord, [To Agamemnon.
Nejt. Then will Ajaxlack matter, if he have lost his argument.
Ulyl. No, you see he is his argument that has his Argument, Achilles.
Neft. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faćtion ; but it was a Itrong ceundel that a fool could dilunite.
U13] The amity that wildom knits not, foily may calily untie.
SCENE VII. Enter Patroclas. Here comes Patroclus.
Neft. No Achilles with him?
Ulys. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy:: His legs are for neceflity, not flexure.
Pat Achilles bids me fay, he is much forry,
Aga. Hear you, Patroclus;
Pat I thall, al.d bring his antwer presently. [Exit.
We come to speak with him. Ulysies, enter:
[Exit Ulysses, Ajix. What is le more than another? dga. No more than what he thinks he is.
Ajax, Is he fo much ? do you not think he thinks himseit a better man than I am ?
Aga. No question.
Aga. No, Noble Ajax; you are äs itrong, 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 himielf. Pride is his own glais, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
SCE NE VIII. Re-enter Ulysses. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engen. dering of toads.
Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulyl. He doth rely on none;
Aga. Why will be not, upon our fair request,
Ul/. Things Imall as nothing, for request's fake only He makes important: he's poffefs'd with greatnels, And speaks not to himself, but with a pride That quarrels at fell-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 barters 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 bis tent;
l'is said, he holds you well, and will be led At your request a little from himself,
Ulyl. 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 baltes 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 worshipp'd Of that we hold an idol more than he ? No, this thrice.worthy and right-valiant Lord Mult 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 buras With entertaining great Hyperion. This Lord go to him? Jupiter forbid, And say in thunder, Achilles go to him!
Neft. O, this is well, he rubs the vein of him, Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applause! Ajax. If I go to him came with my armed filt I'll pash him o'er the face.
Aga. O no, you shall not go.
Ajax. An' he be proud with me, I'll pheese his pride; Let me go to him.
U.y. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax, He should not bear it so, he should cat swords first : thall pride carry it?
Neft. An 'twould, you'd carry half.