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That hy a pace goes backward, in a purpose
It hath to climb. The General's disdain'd
By him one step below; he, by the next;
That next, by him beneath : so every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is fick
Of his Superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation.
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a Tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.
. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd The fever, whereof all our power is sick.
Aga. The nature of the sickness found, Ulyses, What is the remedy?
Uly]. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The linew and the fore-hand of our Hoft, Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs. With him, Patroclus, Upon a lazy bed, the live-long day Breaks scurril jefts ; And with ridiculous and aukward action (Which, flander, he imitation calls) He pegeants us.
Sometimes, great Agamemnon, Thy stopless Deputation he puts on; And, like a strutting Player, (whose conceit Lies in his ham-string, and doth think it rich To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage) Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested Seeming He acts thy Greatness in: and when he speaks, 'Tis like a chime a mending: with terms unsquar'd: Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt, Would seem hyperboles. At this fuity fluff The large Achilles, on his prest-bed lolling, From his deep cheft laughs out a loud applause :
Cries excellent !- 'tis Agamemnon just-
Now play me Neftor-hum, and stroke thy beard,
As he, being 'drest to some oration.
That's done-as near as the extremelt ends
Of parallels; as like, as Vulcan and his wife :
Yet good Achilles still cries, excellent!
'Tis Nestor right! now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-alarm :
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth, to cough and spit,
And with a palfy fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet-and at this sport,
Sir Valour dies: cries O! enough, Patroclus
Or give me ribs of fteel, I shall split all
In pleasure of my spleen. And, in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace; exacts,
Atchievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
Success or loss, what is, or is not, serves
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.
Neft. And in the imitation of these twain,
(Whom, as Ulyses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice) many are infect :
Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a pace,
As broad Achilles; and keeps his tent like him;
Makes factious feasts, rails on our state of war,
Bold as an Oracle; and fets Therfites
(A flave, whose gall coins llanders like a mint)
To match us in comparisons with dirt;
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How hard foever rounded in with danger.
Ulyl. They tax our policy, and call it cowardise,
Count wildom as no member of the war;
Fore-Itall our prescience, and esteem no A&
But that of hand : The still and mental parts,,
That do contrive how many hands íball strike,
When fitness call them on, and know by measure
Of their observant toil the enemies' weight;
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity;
They call this bed-work Mapp'ry, closet war :
So that the ram, that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the engine ;
Or thore, that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.
Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' fons.
(Tucket sounds. Aga. What trumpet ? look, Menelaus. Men. From Troy.
'fore our tent?
Æne. Is this great Agamemnon's tent,
I pray you ?
Aga. Even this.
Ene. May one, that is a Herald and a Prince, Do a fair message to his kingly ears?
Aga. With surety stronger than Achilles' arm,
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon Head and General.
Æne. Fair leave, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals ?
Æne. I ask, that I might waken Reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning, when the coldly eyes
The youthful Phæbus:
Which is that God of office, guiding men ?
Which is the high and mighty Aganiemnon ?
Aga. This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.
£ne, Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm’d, As bending Angels ; that's their fame in peace: But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, (Jove's
Accord,) Nothing so full of heat. But peace, Æneas ; Peace, Trojan ; lay thy finger on thy lips ; The worthiness of praise diftains his worth, If he, that's prais'd, himself bring the praise forth : What the repining enemy commends, That breath Fame blows, that praise sole pure tran
scends. Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas ? Æne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. Aga. What's your affair, I pray you? Æne. Sir, pardon ; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. Aga. He hears nought privately that comes from
Æne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him;'
I bring a trumpet to awake his Ear,
To let his sense on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.
Aga. Speak frankly as the wind,
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour;
That thou thalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.
Æne. Trumpet, blow loud :
Send thy bral's voice thro' all these lazy tents;
And every Greck of metule, let him know
What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.
[The trumpets found.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A Prince callid Hektor (Priam is his father)
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce
Is rusty grown; he bad ne take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'ft of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease,
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,
That knows his valour and knows not his fear,
That loves his mistress more than in confeffion,
(With truant vows to her own lips, he loves,
And dare avow her beauty and her worth
In other arms than hers : to bim this Challenge.
He&or, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, (or do his best to do it)
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call
Midway between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love.
any come, He&or shall honour him:
If none, hell fay in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian Dames are sun-burn'd, and not worth
The splinter of a lance ; even so much.
Aga. This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas.
If none of them have foul in such a kind,
We've left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
that foldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love !
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hexor; if none else, I'm he.
Neft. Tell him of Nefor; one, that was a man
When Hextor's Grandfire suckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian Hoft
One noble man that hath one spark of fire,
To answer for his love: tell him from me,
I'll hide my filver beard in a gold beaver
* And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn;
And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chalte
As may be in the world : his youth in flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.
Æne. Now heav'ns forbid such scarcity of youth * And in my vantbracem-] An Armour for the Arm, a vantbras.