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 there

are,

Moft abject in regard, and dear in use!

What things again most dear in the esteem,

And poor in worth! Now fhall we see to-morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,
While fome men leave to do!

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fafting in his wantonnefs!
To fee 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 fhrinking.

Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me,
As mifers do by beggars; neither gave to me
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot?
Uly. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-fiz'd monster of ingratitudes :

Thofe fcraps are good deeds paft; which are devour'd
As faft as they are made, forgot as foon

As done: Perféverance, dear my lord,

Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang.
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail

In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a trait fo narrow,

Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand fons,

That

That one by one purfue: If you give way,
Or hedge afide from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost ;-

Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,

O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in paft, muft o'ertop yours:

For time is like a fashionable host,

That flightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,

And farewell goes out fighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;

For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, defert in fervice,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole word kin,-
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things paft
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,

More laud than gilt o`er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object :
Then marvel not, thou great and cómplete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion fooner catch the eye,
Then what not ftirs.

The cry went once on thee,

And ftill it might, and yet it may again,

If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,

And cafe thy reputation in thy tent;

Whofe glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous miffions 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil.

Of this my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Uly.

But '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.

Uly. Is that a wonder?

Ha! known?

The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the foul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, can give expreffure 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 fhall in our islands found her trump;
And all the Greekish girls fhall tripping fing,-
Great Hector's fifter did Achilles win;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.

Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;

The fool flides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit,
Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you :
A woman impudent and mannish grown

Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man

In time of action. I ftand condemn'd for this;
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus:

Sweet, roufe yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloofe his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,

Be fhook to air.

Achil.

Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour by him. Achil. I fee, my reputation is at stake;

My fame is fhrewdly gor'd.

Patr.

O, then beware;

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves:
Omiffion to do what is necessary

Seals a commiffion to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we fit idly in the fun.

Achil. Go call Therfites hither, sweet Patroclus:
I'll fend the fool to Ajax, and defire him

To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,

To fee us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am fick withal,

To fee great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,

Even to my full of view. A labour fav'd!

Enter THERSITES.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himfelf.

Achil. How fo?

Ther. He must fight fingly to-morrow with Hector; and is fo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in faying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther.

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain to fet down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politick regard, as who fhould fay— there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and fo there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I faid, Good morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the gene. ral? He is grown a very land-fish, languagelefs, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both fides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my embassador to him, Therfites. Ther. Who, I? why, he'll anfwer nobody; he profeffes not answering; fpeaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his prefence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you fhall fee the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,—I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure fafe conduct for his perfon, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, fix-or-feven-times-honour'd captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.

Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax.

Ther. Humph!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,

Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who moft humbly defires you, to invite Hector to his tent;- T

Ther. Humph!

Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.