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That if he over-hold his price so much,
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lye 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 so.
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 Ulysses. 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 question.
you subscribe his thought, and say, he is? Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no lefs 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 glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle ; and whatever praises it felf 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 roads.
Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys. Achilles will not to the field to morrow.
Aga. What's his excuse?
Ulys. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in self-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 pofseft with Greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at felf-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.
Ulyf. O, Agamemnon, let it not be so.
We'ls consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord,
That baftes 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 ftale his palm, nobly acquir’d;
Nor, by my will, affubjugate his merit,
(As amply titled, as Achilles is,) by going to Achilles :
That were ť 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!
Neft. O, this is well, he rubs the vein of him.
Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!
Ajax. If I go to him with my armed fift
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. Ulys. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. Ajax. A paltry insolent fellow
Neft. How he describes himself!
Ajax. Can he not be sociable?
Ulys. The raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his humours blood.
Aga. He'll be the physician, that should be the patient.
Ajax. And all men were o'my mind-
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.
Ajax. He should not bear it so, he should eat swords first": shall pride carry it?
Neft. An 'twould, you'd carry half.
Ulys. He would have ten shares.
Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him supple,
Neft. He's not yet through warm : (23) force him with praises ; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.
Ulys. My lord, you feed too much on this disike.
Neft. Our noble General, do not do so.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulyf. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm. Here is a man
but 'tis before his face I will be silent. Neft. Wherefore should
fo? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulys. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax. A whorson dog! that palters thus with us
Would he were a Trojan!
Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now-
Ulys. If he were proud.
Dio. Or covetous of praise.
Ulys. Ay, or surly borne.
Dio. Or strange, or self-affected.
Ulf. Thank the heav'ns, lord, thou art of sweet
(23) Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him fupple, he is not yet through
Neft. Force him with praises ; &c.] The latter Part of Ajax's Speech is certainly got out of Place, and ought to be assign’d to Neftor, as I have ventur'd to transpose it. Ajax is feeding on his Vanity, and boasting what he'll do to Achilles ; he'll pash him o'er the Face, he'll make him eat Swords; he'll knead him, he'll supple him, &c. Neftor and Ulysses slily labour to keep him up in this Vein; and to this End Nestor craftily hints, that Ajax is not warm yet, but must be cram'd with more Flattery.
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy Tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition ;
But he that difciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And gave him half; and for thy vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his Addition yields
To sinewy Ajax ; I'll not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilaced parts. Here's Nestor,
Instructed by the Antiquary times ;
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise :
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temper’d,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax. Shall I call you father?
Ulyf. Ay, my good son.
Dio. Be ruld by him, lord Ajax.
Ulys. There is no tarrying here; the Hart Achilles
Keeps thicket ; please it our great General
To call together all his State of war;
Fresh Kings are come to Troy: to morrow, friends,
We must with all our main of pow'r stand fast :
And here's a lord, come Knights from East to West,
And cull their flow'r, Ajax shall cope the best, .
Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles Neep;
Light boats fail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
.SCENE, Paris's Apartments in the Palace, in
Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. (Mufick witbin.]
RIEND! you! pray you, á word: do not
you follow the young lord Paris ?
Ser. Ay, Sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pan. You depend upon a noble gentleman: I must
needs praise him.
Ser. The lord be praised !
Pan. You know me, do you not?
Ser. Faith, Sir, superficially.
Pan. Friend, know me better, I am the lord Pandarus.
Ser. I hope, I shall know your honour better.
Ran. I do desire it.
Ser. You are in the state of grace ?
Pan. Grace? not fo, friend : honour and lordship are
What musick is this?
Ser. I do but partly know, Sir ; it is mufick in parts.
Pan. Know you the musicians?
Ser. Wholly, Sir.
Pan. Who play they to?
Ser. To the hearers, Sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?
Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love musick.