Achil. I fhall foreftall thee, Lord Ulyffes;-thou Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.

Hect. Is this Achilles?

Achil. I am Achilles.

Hect. Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.
Achil. Behold thy fill.

Hect. Nay, I have done already.

Achit. Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee, limb by limb.

Hect. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Why doft thou so oppress me with thine eye? Achil. Tell me, you Heavens, in which part of his body

Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there,
That I may give the local wound a name,
And make diftin&t the very breach whereout
Hector's great fpirit flew. Anfwer me, Heavens !
Hect. It would difcredit the blefs'd Gods, proud
To answer fuch a queftion: ftand again.--- [man,
Think'ft thou to catch my life fo pleafantly,
As to prenominate, in nice conjecture,
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

Achil. I tell thee, yea.

Heft. Wert thou the oracle to tell me fo, I'd not believe thee: henceforth guard thee well, For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that smithied Mars his helm, (40)

(40) But by the forge that stythied Mars his helm.] So again, in Hamlet;

And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's tithy.

Afithy, or fith, fignifies an anvil.

I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.-
You wileft Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His infolence draws folly from my lips:

But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Or may Ι never

Ajax. Do not chafe thee, coufin;

And you, Achilles, let thefe threats alone,
Till accident or purpofe bring you to't.

If

You may have every day enough of Hector,, you. have ftomach. The general ftate, I fear, (41) Can fcarce intreat you to be odd with hin.

Heft. I pray you, let us see you in the field:
We have had pelting war fince you refused
The Grecians' caufe.

S. Achil. Doft thou intreat me, Hector?
To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;
To-night, all friends.

So Chaucer, in his Knight's Tale;

--and the fmith

That forgeth fharpe fwerdis on the fith.

And the word is ftill current in our northern counties. But I own, I fufpect this not to have been our Author's word either in Hamlet or here. For, in the first place, an anvil is, far from being the dirtiest thing in a fmith's shop; and theu the forge, or furnace, cannot be faid to anvil the helmet. I have corrected;

Eut by the forge that smithied Mars's helm.

A fmithy is the working thop of a smith; and to smithy, is to perform the work and office of a fmith.

(41) The general state, I fear,

Can Scarce intreat you to be odd with him.] This is ob fcurely, expreffed, but the meaning must be this: Notwithftanding this bluftering which you have made, 1 fear the whole Grecian confederacy with their united prayers could fcarce prevail with you to make Hector your adverfary in good carneft, to oppose yourself to him. This will be farther explained by a paffage in King Henry V.

Say, if my father render fair reply,

It is against my will; for I defire
Nothing but odds with England.

Hect. Thy hand upon that match.

Aga. First, all you Peers of Greece, go to my There in the full convive you; afterwards, [tent; As Hector's leisure and your bounties fhall

Concur together, feverally intreat him

To tafte your bounties: let the trumpets blow;
That this great foldier may his welcome know.
[Exeunt

Manent TROILUS and ULYSSES.

Troi. My Lord Ulyffes, tell me, I befeech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?

Ulf. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus
There Diomede doth feaft with him to-night;
Who neither looks on heaven, nor on the earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Creffid.

Troi. Shall I, fweet Lord, be bound to thee fo
After you part from Agamemnon's tent, [much,
To bring me thither?

Ulyf. You fhall command me, Sir:

As gently tell me, of what honour was

This Creffida in Troy; had the no lover there,
That wails her abfence?

Troi. O Sir, to fuch as boafting fhew their fears,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my Lord?
She was beloved, fhe loved; fhe is, and doth :
But ftill sweet love is food for Fortune's tooth.

[Exeunt

9

Ff3

ACT V..

ར་

SCENE, before Achilles's Tent in the Grecian

I'

Camp.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

ACHILLES..

LL heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my fcimitar I'll cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.. Pat. Here comes Therfites.

Enter THERSITES.

Achil. How now, thou core of envy? (42) Thou crufty botch of Nature, what's the news? Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou feemest, and idol of ideot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.

Achil. From whence, fragment?

Ther. Why, thou full dith of fool, from Troy. Pat. Who keeps the tent now?

Ther. The furgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Pat. Well faid, Adverfity; and what need thefe tricks?

Ther. Pr'ythee, be filent, boy, I profit not by thy talk; thou art thought to be Achilles's male-harlot. (+3)

(42) How now, thou core of envy?

Thou cruffy batch of Nature, Thus all the printed copies; but what is a crufty batch of Nature?

tainly read borch; i. e. fcab, fore, &c.

So before, in the beginning of the fecond act;

We must cer

And thofe boils did run-fay fo;- Did not the general run, were not that a botchy core?

(43) Thou art thought to be Achilles's...le varlet.] Dr

Pat. Male-harlot, you rogue? what's that? Ther. Why, his mafculine whore. Now the rotten difeafes of the fouth, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel ith' back, lethargies, cold palfies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing langs, bladders full of impofthume, fciaticas, limekilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivelled fee-fimple of the tetter, take and take again. fuch prepofterous discoveries!

Pat. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meaneft thou to curfe thus !

Ther. Do I curfe thee?

Pat. Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whorefon indiftinguishable cur.

Ther. No? why art thou then exafperate, thou idle immaterial fkein of fleyed filk, thou green farcenet flap for a fore eye, thou taffel of a prodigal's purfe, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with fuch water-flies, diminutives of nature.

Pat. Out, gall!

Ther. Finch-egg.

Achil. My fweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpofe in to-morrow's battle:
Here is a letter from Queen. Hecuba,

A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep

An oath that I have fworn. I will not break it;
Fall Greek, fail fame; honour, or go, or stay,
My major vows ly here; this I'll obey.
Come, come, Therfites, help to trim my tent,
This night in banqueting muft all be spent.
Away, Patroclus.

Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain,

Thirlby very reasonably conjectures harlot; and this feems
confirmed by what Therfites immediately fubjoins :-
:-Why,
his mafculine whore.