Force would be Right; or rather (11) Right and
Wrong

(Between whofe endless jar Juftice refides)
Would lofe their names, and fo would Juftice too.
Then every thing includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite (an univerfal wolf

So doubly feconded with will and power)
Muft make perforce an univerfal prey,
And last eat up itfelf. Great Agamemnon!
This chaos, when degree is fuffocate,
Follows the choaking:

And this neglection of degree is it,

That by a peace goes backward, in a purpose
It hath to climb. The General's difdained
By him one step below; he, by the next;
That next, by him beneath: fo every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is fick
Of his fuperior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation.

And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own finews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.
Neft. Moft wifely hath Ulyffes here difcovered
The fever whereof all our power is fick.

Agam. The nature of the fickness found, Ulyffes, What is the remedy?

Ulyf. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The finew and the forehand of our hoft,

Having his ear full of his airy fame,

(11)

-Right and wrong.

Between whofe endless jar fulice refides,

Would life their names;] This is not a bad comment upon what Horace has faid on this fubject;

-funt certi denique fines

Quos ultrà citráque nequit confiftere rectum,

Grows dainty of his worth, and in his text

Lyes mocking our defigns.

With him, Patroclus,

Upon a lazy bed, the live-long day

Breaks fcurril jetts;

And with ridiculous and aukward action (Which, flanderer, he imitation calls)

He pageants us.

Sometimes, great Agamemnon,

Thy toplefs deputation he puts on;

And like a strutting player, (whose conceit
Lyes in his ham-ftring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and found
'Twixt his ftretched footing and the fcaffoldage)
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrefted feeming.
He acts thy greatnefs in: and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unfquar'd:
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon drop'd,
Would feem hyperboles. At this fufty stuff
The large Achilles, on his preff'd-bed lolling,
From his deep cheft laughs out a loud applause:
Cries--excellent!----'tis Agamemnon juft-----
Now play me Neftor----hum, and stroke thy beard,
As he, being 'dreffed to fome oration.

That's done--- as near as the extremeft ends (12)
Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife:
Yet good Achilles ftill cries, excellent!

'Tis Neftor right! now play him me, Patroclus, Arming to anfwer in a night alarm:

And then, forfooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth, to cough and fpit,
And with a palfy fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet----and at this fport,

(82)

as near as the extremeft ends

of parallels; i. e. vaftly diftant; for parallel lines, though they run all the way equi-diftant, yet their extre mities are as far off from each other as the points of caftand weft.

Sir Valour dies; cries " O!---enough, Patroclus--"
Or "give me ribs of steel, I fhall split all
"In pleasure of my fpleen." And, in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Atchievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
Succefs or lofs, what is, or is not, ferves
As ftuff for thefe two to make paradoxes.

Neft. And in the imitation of these twain,
(Whom, as Ulyffes fays, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice) many are infect :
Ajax is grown felf-willed, and bears his head
In fuch a rein, in full as proud a pace,

As broad Achilles; and keeps his tent like him;
Makes factious feafts, rails on our state of war,
Bold as an oracle; and fets Therfites

(A flave, whofe gall coins flanders like a mint)
To match us in comparisons with dirt;
To weaken and difcredit our exposure,
How hard foever rounded in with danger.

Uly. They tax our policy, and call it cowardife, Count wifdom as no member of the war; Fore-stall our prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand: the still and mental parts, That do contrive how many hands shall strike, When fitnefs call them on, and know by measure Of their obfervant toil, the enemies' weight; Why, this hath not a finger's dignity; They call this bed-work mapp'ry, closet war; (13)

(13) They call this bed-work, mappery, closet war :] The Poet, in my opinion, would fay, this is planning out action and war, as a man might do on his pillow and in his closet. If fo, bedwork muft be the epithet to mappery, as closet is to war; and therefore I have expunged the comma, which feparted the firft from its fubftantive. So Guiderius, in Cym beline, fpeaking of an unactive life, fays, it is

A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed.

So that the ram, that batters down the wall,
For the great fwing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or thofe that with the fineness of their fouls
By reafon guide his execution.

Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horfe Makes many Thetis' fons.

[Tucket founds. Aga. What trumpet? look, Menelaus. Men. From Troy.

Enter ENEAS.

Aga. What would you 'fore our tent?

Ane. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? Aga. Even this.

Ane. May one, that is a Herald and a Prince, Do a fair meffage to his kingly ears!

Aga. With furety ftronger than Achilles' arm, Fore all the Greckith heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon Head and General.

Ene. Fair leave, and large fecurity. How may
A ftranger to thofe moft imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?
Aga. How?

Ene. I afk, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modeft as morning, when the coldly eyes
The youthful Phœbus:

Which is that God in office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

Aga. This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers.

Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: (14) But when they would feem foldiers, they have galls;

(14) But when they would feems foldiers, they have galls, Good arms, ftrong joints, true words, and Jove's accord

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 worthinefs of praise diftains his worth,
If he, that's prailed, himfelf bring the praife forth:
What the repining enemy commends, [fcends.
That breath Fame blows, that praise fole pure tran-
Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourfelf Æneas?
Ene. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Aga. What's your affair, I pray you ?

Ane 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 ears,
To fet his fenfe on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.

Nothing fo full of hearts.] Can the Poet be fuppofed to mean, that the Trojans had Jove's accord whenever they would feem foldiers? No, certainly, he would intimate that nothing was fo full of heart as they, when that god did but fhew himself on their fide. This circumftance added, brings no impeachment to their courage: valour would become prefumption and impiety in them, if they had trusted to it when Jove manifeftly declared himfelt on the other fide. My regulation of the pointing fixes the Poet's fente; and 'tis every where his manner to mention the concurrence of the deity fuppofed.

Our coronation done, we will accite

(As I before remembered) all our state,

And (Heaven configning to my good intents,) &c.

for God before,

2 Henry IV.

We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. Henry V.

Yet, God before, tell him, we will come on.

That by the help of thefe, (with Him above
To ratify the work).

&c. &c. &c.

ibid.

Macbeth.