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Which when they fall, (as being slippery ftanders)
The love that leaned on them, as flippery too,
Doch one pluck down another,' and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did poffeis,
Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out.
Something in me not worth that rich beholding
As they have ofion given. Here is Ulysses.
I'll interrupt his reading.--- Now, Ulyfles?

Uiy. Now, Thetis lon!
Achil. What are you reading ?

Ulyf. A strange fellow here
Writes me, that man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without, or in,
Cannot make boalt to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection:
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the firit giver.

Achil. This is not strange, Ulyfles.
The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To other's eyes: nor doth the eye itself
(That most pure spirit of sense) behold itself
Not going from itself; but eyes opposed
Salute each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travelled, and is married there
Where it may see itself; this is not strange..

Ulyf. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but the author's drift;
Who, in his circumstance, exprelly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Tho' in, and of him there is much consisting)
Till he communicate his parts to others;

there are,

Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,
Till be behold them formed in th' applause
Where they're extended; which, like an arch, re-

The voice again; or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the fun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much wrapt in this,
And apprehended here immediately,
The unknown Ajax-
Heavens! what a man is there? a very horse,
That has he knows not what. Nature! what things
Most abject in regard, and dear in use?
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth? Now shall we fee to-morrow
An act, that very chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renowned ! Oh heavens, what some men do,
While some men leave to do!
How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes;
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonness !
To see these Grecian Lords ! why even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy thrinking.

Achil. This I do believe; For they pasled by me, as misers do by beggars, Neither gave to me good word, nor good look: What ! are my deeds forgot ?

Ulys. Time hath, my Lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion: (A great-fized monster of ingratitudes) Thote scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done : perseverance keeps honour bright:

To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rusty mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a streight so narrow,
Where one but goes abreaft: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand fons,
That one by one pursue; if you give way,
Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindermost; and there you ly,
Like to a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
For pavement to the abject rear, o'er-run
And trampled on: then what they do in present,
Though less than yours in paft, must o'er-top yours.
For Time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
But with his arms out-stretched, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer ; Welcome ever finiles,
And Farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was ;
For beauty, wit, high birth, defert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things palt;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt, (29)
More laud than they will give to gold o'er-dusted:
The prefent eye praises the present object.
(29) And go to duft, that is a little gilt,

Mire laud than guilt, der dufied: In this mangled condition do we find this truly fine observation transmitted in the old Folios. Mr Pope saw it was corrupt, and therefore, as I presume, threw it out of the text; because he would not indulge his private fense in attempting to make sense of it. I owe the foundation of the amendment which I have given to the text, to the fagacity of the ingenious Dr Thirlby.

Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajar;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not ftirs. The cry went once for thee,
And itull it might, and yet it may again,
If thou wouldelt not entomb thyself alive,
And cafe thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emnulous missions 'mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil. Of my privacy
Lhave itrong reasons.

Ulyf. 'Gainst your privacy
The reasons are more potent and heroical.
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.

Achil. Ha ! known !

U!yf. Is that a wonder? The providence, that's in a watchful state, Knows almost every grain of Pluto's gold; Finds bottom in th’ uncomprehensive deep ; Keeps place with thought; and almost, like the

Gods, Does even our thoughts unveilin their dumb cradles. There is a mystery (with which relation Durst never meddle) in the soul of state; Which hath an operation more divine, Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to. All the commerce that you have had with Troy As perfectly is ours, as yours, my Lord. And better would it fit Achilles much, To throw down Hector, than Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When fame shall in his illand found her trump, And all the Greekish girls shall tripping fing, Great Hector's fifter did Achilles win ;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Earewel, my Lord -1, as your lover, speak;
The fool sides o'er the ice that you should break.

Pat. To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you;
A woman, impudent and mannill grown,
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
In time of ad. -I fand condemned for this
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love' to me, restrains you thus :
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unlóose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector !
Pat. Ay, and, perhaps, receive much honour

by him.
Achil. I fee, my reputation is at Atake;
My fame is threwdiy gored.

Pat, 0 then beware: Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themfelves Omillion to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And Danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then, when we fit idly in the sun.

Achil. Go call Therfites hither, fweet Patroclus : I'll send the fool to Ajax, and defire him T'invite the Trojan Lords, after the combat, To see us here unarmed: I have a woman's longing, An appetite that I am fick withal, To see great Hector in the weeds of peace; To talk

with him, and to behold his visage, Even to my full of view. A labour faved !

Ther. A wonder !


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