les; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Therfites is a fool, to ferve fuch a fool; and Patroclus is a fool pofitive.

Patr. Why am I a fool?

Ther. Make that demand of the prover.-It fuffices me, thou art. Look you, who comes here?

Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and AJAX.

Achil. Patroclus, I'll fpeak with nobody:-Come in with me, Therfites. [Exit.

Ther. Here is such patchery, fuch juggling, and fuch knavery! all the argument is, a cuckold, and a whore; A good quarrel, to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon. Now the dry ferpigo on the subject! and war, and lechery, confound all!

Agam. Where is Achilles?

Patr. Within his tent; but ill-difpos'd, my lord. Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are here. He fhent our meffengers; and we lay by

Our appertainments, vifiting of him :

Let him be told fo; left, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.

Patr.

I fhall fay fo to him. Uly. We faw him at the opening of his tent; He is not fick.

[Exit.

[Exit,

Ajax. Yes, lion-fick, fick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: But why, why? let him fhow us a cause. -A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON afide.

1

Neft. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Uly. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Neft.

Neft. Who? Therfites?

Ulyff. He.

Neft. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have loft his argument.

Ulyff. No; you fee, he is his argument, that has his argument; Achilles.

Neft. All the better; their fraction is more our wish, than their faction: But it was a strong compofure, a fool could difunite.

Uly. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may eafily untie. Here comes Patroclus.

Re-enter PATROCLUS.

Neft. No Achilles with him.

Uly. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy : his legs are legs for neceffity, not for flexure.

Patr. Achilles bids me fay—he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatnefs, and this noble state,
To call upon him; he hopes, it is no other,
But, for your health and your digeftion fake,
An after-dinner's breath.

Agam.'

Hear you, Patroclus ;-
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion, wing'd thus fwift with fcorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehenfions.

Much attribute he hath; and much the reason
Why we afcribe it to him: yet all his virtues,-
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,—
Do, in our eyes begin to lose their glofs;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untafted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him: And you fhall not fin,

If

If you do fay-we think him over-proud,

And under-honeft; in self-assumption greater,

Than in the note of judgement; and worthier than himself
Here tend the favage ftrangeness he puts on;
Difguife the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an obferving kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if
The paffage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,
That, if he overhold his price fo much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report-
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war :
A ftirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a fleeping giant :-Tell him fo.

Patr. I fhall; and bring his answer presently.
Agam. In fecond voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him.-Ulyffes, enter.

[Exit.

[Exit ULYSSES.

Ajax. What is he more than another?
Agam. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he fo much? Do you not think, he thinks himfelf a better man than I am?

Agam. No question.

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and fay- he is? Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as ftrong, as valiant, as wife, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why fhould a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is.

Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up him felf: pride is his own glafs, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and

whatever

whatever praifes itself but in the deed, devours the deed

in the praife.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

Neft. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange?

Re-enter ULYSSES.

[Afide.

Uly. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Agam. What's his excufe?

He doth rely on none;

Ul
But carries on the stream of his difpofe,
Without obfervance or refpect of any,
In will peculiar and in felf-admiffion.

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Untent his perfon, and share the air with us?

Uly Things finall as nothing, for request's fake only,
He makes important: Poffefs'd he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at felf-breath: imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood fuch fwoln and hot difcourfe,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,

And batters down himfelf: What should I say?
He is fo plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry No recovery.

Agam.

Let Ajax go to him.

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent :
'Tis faid, he holds you well; and will be led,
At your requeft, a little from himself.
Ulyf. O Agamemnon, let it not be fo!

We'll confecrate the fteps that Ajax makes

When they go from Achilles : Shall the proud lord,

6

I hat

That baftes his arrogance with his own feam;
And never fuffers matter of the world

Enter his thoughts,-fave fuch as do revolve
And ruminate himself,-shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?

No, this thrice-worthy and right-valiant lord
Muft not fo ftale his palm, nobly acquir'd;

Nor, by my will, affubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,

By going to Achilles :

That were to enlard his fat-already pride;

And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.

This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid ;

And fay in thunder-Achilles, go to him.

Neft. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. [Afide. Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applaufe!

[Afide. Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fift I'll pash him

Over the face.

Agam.

O, no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride: Let me go to him.

Uly. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. Ajax. A paltry, infolent fellow,

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the patient.

[Afide.