Tro.

Why, brother Hector,

We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Caffandra's mad; her brain-fick raptures
Cannot diftaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our feveral honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's fons:
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen
To fight for and maintain !

Par. Elfe might the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings, as your counfels :
But I atteft the gods, your full confent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on fo dire a project.
For what, alas, can these my fingle arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To ftand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite? Yet, I proteft,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power as I have will,
Paris fhould ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.

Pri.
Paris, you speak
Like one befotted on your fweet delights:
You have the honey ftill, but these the gall;
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures fuch a beauty brings with it;
But I would have the foil of her fair rape
Wip'd off, in honourable keeping her.
What treafon were it to the ranfack'd queen,

Difgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her poffeffion up,

On terms of base compulfion? Can it be,
That fo degenerate a strain as this,

Should once fet footing in your generous bofoms?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or fword to draw,
When Helen is defended; nor none fo noble,
Whofe life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the fubject: then, I fay,
Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both faid well; And on the cause and question now in hand

Have gloz'd, but fuperficially; not much

Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy:

The reasons, you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot paffion of distemper'd blood,

Than to make up a free determination

'Twixt right and wrong; For pleafure, and revenge,

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decifion. Nature craves,

All dues be render'd to their owners; Now
What nearer debt in all humanity,
Than wife is to the hufband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection;
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, refift the fame;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
To curb thofe raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king,—
As it is known fhe is,-thefe moral laws

Of

Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud

To have her back return'd: Thus to perfift
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,

But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,

My fpritely brethren, I propend to you

In refolution to keep Helen ftill;

For 'tis a caufe that hath no mean dependance

Upon our joint and several dignities.

Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our defign:

Were it not glory that we more affected

Than the performance of our heaving spleens,

I would not with a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown;
A fpur to valiant and magnanimous deeds;
Whose prefent courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us :
For, I prefume, brave Hector would not lofe
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,

As fmiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.

He&t.
I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.-
I have a roifting challenge fent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy fpirits;
I was advértis'd, their great general flept,
Whilft emulation in the army crept;
This, I prefume, will wake him,

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent.

Enter THER SITES.

Ther. How now, Therfites? what, loft in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy fatisfaction! 'would, it were otherwife; that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me? 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll fee fome iffue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's 'Achilles,-a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and, Mercury, lofe all the ferpentine craft of thy Caduceus; if ye take not that little little lefs-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm'd ignorance itfelf knows is fo abundant fcarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curfe dependant on those that war for a placket. I have faid my prayers; and devil, envy, fay Amen. What, ho! my lord Achilles !

Enter PATROCLUS.

Patr. Who's there? Therfites? Good Therfites, come in and rail.

Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt counterfeit, thou would't not have flipp'd out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; Thyfelf upon thyfelf! The common

curfe

curfe of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and difcipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she, that lays thee out, fays—thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and fworn upon't, she never fhrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?

Patr. What, art thou devout? waft thou in prayer? Ther. Ay; The heavens hear me !

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Who's there?

Patr. Therfites, my lord.

Achil. Where, where?-Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why haft thou not ferv'd thyfelf in to my table so many meals? Come; what`s Agamemnon? Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ;-Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?

Patr. Thy lord, Therfites; Then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patr. Thou may'ft tell, that know't.

Achil. O, tell, tell.

Ther. I'll decline the whole queftion. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool.

Patr. You rascal!

Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd man.-Proceed, Therfites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Therfites is a fool; and, as aforefaid, Patroclus is a fool. Achil. Derive this; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achil