'Tis Neftor right! Now play him

me,

Patroclus,

Arming to answer in a night alarm.

And then, forfooth, 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 fport,
Sir Valour dies; cries, O!-enough, Patroclus;-
Or give me ribs of fleel! I shall split all

In pleasure of my spleen.

And in this fashion

All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or fpeech for truce,
Succefs, or lofs, what is, or is not, ferves
As ftuff for these two to make paradoxes.

Neft. And in the imitation of these twain
(Whom, as Ulyffes fays, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice,) many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-will'd; and bears his head
In fuch a rein, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles: keeps his tent like him;
Makes factious feafts; rails on our state of war,
Bold as an oracle: and fets Therfites

(A flave, whose gall coins flanders like a mint,)
To match us in comparisons with dirt;

To weaken and difcredit our exposure,
How rank foever rounded in with danger.

Uly. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice;
Count wisdom as no member of the war;

Forestall prescience, and esteem no act

But that of hand: the ftill and mental parts,-
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on; and know, by measure
Of their obfervant toil, the enemies' weight,-

Why,

Why, this hath not a finger's dignity :

They call this-bed-work, mappery, 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 those, that with the fineness of their fouls
By reafon guide his execution.

Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horfe
Makes many Thetis' fons.

Agam.

[Trumpet founds. What trumpet? look, Menelaus.

Ene. May one, that is a herald, and a prince,

Do a fair meffage to his kingly ears?

Agam. With furety stronger than Achilles' arm 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general.

Ene. Fair leave, and large fecurity. How may
A ftranger to those most imperial looks

Know them from eyes of other mortals?
Agam.

Ene. Ay;

I afk, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modeft as morning when the coldly eyes.
The youthful Phoebus :

How?

Which is that god in office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers.

Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace : But when they would feem foldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true fwords; and, Jove's accord,

Nothing fo full of heart. But peace, Æneas,

Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips!
The worthiness of praise diftains his worth,
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth:
But what the repining enemy commends,

That breath fame blows; that praise, fole pure, transcends.
Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas?

Ene. Ay, Greek, that is my name.

Agam.

What's your affair, I pray you?

Ene. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

Agam. He hears nought privately, that comes from

Troy.

Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him:

I bring a trumpet to awake his ear;

To set his sense on the attentive bent,

And then to speak.

Agam.

Speak frankly as the wind;

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour :

That thou fhalt know, Trojan, he is awake,

He tells thee fo himself.

Ene.
Trumpet, blow loud,
Send thy brafs voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know,
What Troy means fairly, fhall be spoke aloud.

[Trumpet founds.

We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,)

Who

Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown; he bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpofe fpeak. Kings, princes, lords I
If there be one, among the fair'st 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 him this challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
He hath a lady, wifer, fairer, truer,

Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,
To roufe a Grecian that is true in love:
If any come, Hector shall honour him;

If none, he'll fay in Troy, when he retires,
The Grecian dames are fun-burn'd, and not worth
The fplinter of a lance. Even fo much.

Agam. This fhall be told our lovers, lord Æneas;
If none of them have foul in fuch a kind,
We left them all at home: But we are foldiers;
And may 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 Hector; if none elfe, I am he.

Neft. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandfire fuck'd: 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 grandame, and as chaste
As may be in the world: His youth in flood,
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.
Ene. Now heavens forbid fuch scarcity of youth!
Ulyff. Amen.

Agam. Fair lord Æneas, let me touch your hand;
To our pavilion fhall I lead you, fir.

Achilles fhall have word of this intent;

So fhall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent:
Yourself fhall feaft with us before you go,

And find the welcome of a noble foe.

Uly. Neftor,

[Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR.

Neft. What says Ulysses?

Uly. I have a young conception in my brain,

Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Neft. What is't?

Ulyff. This 'tis :

Blunt wedges rive hard knots: The feeded pride
That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropp'd,
Or, thedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To overbulk us all.

Uly. This challenge that the gallant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general name,

Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous even as fubftance, Whose groffness little characters fum up :

And, in the publication, make no strain,
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren

As