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And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus.

ACT II.

DOUBT.

The wound of

peace

is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is callid
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.

PLEASURE AND REVENGE.

For pleasure, and revenge,
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision.

THE SUBTLETY OF ULYSSES, AND STUPIDITY OF AJAX.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads. Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange?

A side. Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. Agam. What's his excuse?

He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission.

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

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's

Ulyss.

sake only,

He makes important: Possess'd he is with greatAnd speaks not to himself, but with a pride (ness; That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth

:

Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself: What should I say?
He is so 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 said, he holds you well; and will be led,
At your request, a little from himself.

Úlyss. Ó Agamemnon, let it not be so!
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles: Shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam*,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts,—save such 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
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
Nor, by my will

, assubjugate 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 Cancerf when it burns With entertaining great Hyperion 1: This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid; And say in thunder-Achilles, go to him. Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

[ A side. Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause!

A side. * Fat. $ The sign in the zodiac into which the sun enters June 21.

“And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze.” The sun.

Thomson.

Κ Κ

[him

Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash* Over the face.

Agam. O, no, you shall not go. [pride:

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

Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our Ajax. A paltry insolent fellow, — [quarrel. Nest.

How he describes Himself!

[A side. Ajax. Can he not be sociable ? Ulyss.

The raven Chides blackness,

[A side. Ajax.

I will let his humours blood, Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the

patient.

[Aside. Ajax. An all men Were o' my mind,

Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [A side.

Ajax. He should not bear it so, He should eat swords first: shall pride carry it?

Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [A side. Ulyss.

He'd have ten shares.

[A side. Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple:Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: forcef him

with praises: Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [A side. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

[To AGAMEMNON. Nest. O noble general, do not do so. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him Here is a man—But 'tis before his face; [harm. I will be silent. * Strike. + Comb, or curry.

* Stuff.

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Nest.

Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous*, as Achilles is.

Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall paltert thus I would, he were a Trojan.

[with us! Nest.

What a vice
Were it in Ajax now-
Ulyss,

If he were proud ?
Dio. Or covetous of praise?
Ulyss.

Ay, or surly borne?
Dio. Or strange, er self-affected?
Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of

sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, she that gave

thee suck: Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice fam'd, beyond all erudition: But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight, Let Mars divide eternity in twain, And give him half; and, for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, Which, like a bourns, a pale, a shore, confines Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor, Instructed by the antiquary times, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise;But pardon, father Nestor, were your days As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper’d, You should not have the eminence of him, But be as Ajax. Ajax.

Shall I call

you

father? Nest. Ay, my good son. Dio.

Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great general * Enyious. + Trifle.

§ Stream, rivulet.

# Titles.

To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy; To-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here's a lord—come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.

Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep: Light boats sail swift, tho' greater hulks draw deep.

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ACT III.

AN EXPECTING LOVER, No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door, Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks, Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields, Where I may wallow in the lily beds Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, And fly with me to Cressid!

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense: What will it be, When that the wat’ry palate tastes indeed Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me; Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers: I fear it much; and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying.

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Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;

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