A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
The Knight opposed.

Ene. If not Achilles, Sir,

What is your name?

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

Ene. Therefore, Achilles: but whate'er, know In the extremity of great and little

Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all,

[this,

The other blank as nothing; weigh him well;
And that which looks like pride is courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector come to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
Achil. A maiden-battle then? O, I perceive you.
Re-enter DIGMEDE.

Aga. Here is Sir Diomede: go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax; as you and Lord Æneas Confent upon the order of the fight,

So be it; either to the uttermoft,

Or elfe a breath. The combatants being kin
Half flints their ftrife before their ftrokes begin.
Ulf. They are oppofed already.

Aga. What Trojan is that fame that looks fo heavy?

Uly. The youngest fon of Priam, a true knight; Not yet mature, yet matchlefs; firm of word; Speaking in deeds, and deedlefs in his tongue; Not foon provoked, nor, being provoked, foon calmed;

His heart and hand both open, and both free;

point. I regulated the paffage in the appendix to my Shakefpeare Reftored; and Mr Pope has followed my regulation in his laft edition of our Poet.

For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he fhews;
Yet gives he not till judgment guides his bounty;
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;

For Hector in his blaze of wrath fubfcribes
To tender objects; but he in heat of action
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Troilus, and on him erect
A fecond hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus fays Æneas, one that knows the youth
Even to his inches; and with private foul,
Did in great Ilion thus tranflate him to me.

[Alarm. Hector and Ajax fight. Aga. They are in action.

Neft. Now, Ajax, hold thine own.

Troi. Hector, thou sleepest, awake thee.

Aga. His blows are well difpofed; there, Ajax.

Dio. You must no more.

[Trumpets ceafe.

Ene. Princes, enough, fo please you,

Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Dio. As Hector pleases.

Hect. Why then, will I no more.

Thou art, great Lord, my father's fifter's fon; (39)
A coufin-german to great Priam's feed:
The obligation of our blood forbids

A gory emulation 'twixt us twain.

Were thy commixion Greek and Trojan fo,
That thou couldst fay, this hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the finews of this leg

All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek, and this finister
Bounds in my fire's: by Jove multipotent,

(39) Thou art, great Lord, my father's fifter's fon ;] For Ajax, as well as Teucer, was the fon of Hefione, who was the daughter of Laomedon, and fifter of Priam,

Thou fhould'ft not bear from me a Greekish mem-
Wherein my fword had not impreffure made [ber
Of our rank feud; but the juft Gods gainfay,
That any drop thou borroweft from thy mother,
My facred aunt, fhould by my mortal sword
Be drained! Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
By him that thunders, thou haft lufty arms;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus---
Coufin, all honour to thee !------

Ajax. I thank thee, Hector!

Thou art too gentle and too free a man :
I came to kill thee, coufin, and bear hence
great addition earned in thy death.

A

Het. Not Neoptolemus fo mirable,

(On whofe bright creft, Fame, with her loudeft O yes,

Cries, This is he;) could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector!
Ene. There is expectance here from both the fides,
What further you will do.

Het. We'll answer it:

The iffue is embracement: Ajax, farewel.
Ajax. If I might in entreaties find fuccefs,
(As feld I have the chance) I would defire
My famous coufin to our Grecian tents.

Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's with, and great Achilles
Doth long to fee unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Heft. Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me:
And fignify this loving interview

To the expectors of our Trojan part;

Defire them home. Give me thy hand, my Coufin: I will go eat with thee, and fee your Knights.

AGAMEMNON and the reft of the Greeks come forward.

Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.

Hect. The worthieft of them tell me name by But for Achilles, mine own fearching eyes [name; Shall find him by his large and portly fize.

Aga. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of fuch an enemy;

But that's no welcome: understand more clear,
What's past and what's to come is ftrew'd with hufks
And formless ruin of oblivion:

But in this extant moment, faith and truth,
Strained purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee with moft divine integrity,

From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
Heft. I thank thee, moft imperious Agamemnon.
Aga. My well-fam'd Lord of Troy, no lefs to
[To Troilus.
Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's greet-
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. [ing:
Hect. Whom muft we answer?

you.

Ene. The noble Menelaus.

Het. O you, my Lord-by Mars his gauntlet, Mock not that I affect the untreaded oath: [thanks. Your quondamn wife fwears ftill by Venus' glove: She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. Men. Name her not now, Sir, fhe's a deadly Heat. O, pardon-I offend. [theme.

Neft. I have, thou gallant Trojan, feen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way

Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen
As hot as Perfeus, fpur thy Phrygian fteed, [thee
Bravely defpifing forfeits and fubduements,
When thou haft hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,
Not letting it decline on the declined:
That I have faid unto my standers-by,

Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!

And I have feen thee paufe, and take thy breath, When that a ring of Greeks have hemmed thee in,

VOL. XI.

F f

Like an Olympian wrestling. This I've seen:
But this thy countenance, ftill lock'd in steel,
I never faw till now. I knew thy grandfire,
And once fought with him; he was a foldier good;
But by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee,
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
Ene. 'Tis the old Neftor.

Hed. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That haft fo long walk'd hand in hand with time: Moft reverend Neftor, I am glad to clafp thee.

Neft. I would my arms could match thee in conAs they contend with thee in courtefy. [tention, Hect. I would they could. [morrow. Neft. By this white beard, I'd fight with thee toWell, welcome, welcome; I have feen the time-— Ulf. I wonder now how yonder city stands, When we have here the base and pillar by us.

Hect. I know your favour, Lord Ulyffes, well. Ah, Sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I faw yourself and Diomede In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.

Ulyf. Sir, I foretold you then what would enfue: My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yond towers, whofe wanton tops do buss the clouds, Muft kifs their own feet.

He. I must not believe you :

There they ftand yet; and, modeftly I think,
The fall of every Phrygian stone will coft
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all;
And that old common arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.

Ulyf. So to him we leave it.

Moft gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome; After the general, I beseech you next

To feaft with me, and fee me at my tent.