Ther. Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles ?

Patr. Thy lord, Therfites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patr. Thou may'st tell, that know'st.
Achil. O tell, tell,

Ther. I'll decline the whole queftion. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus's knower, and Patroclus is a fool.

Patr. You rascal.

Ther. Peace, fool, I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Therfites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Therfites is a fool, and, as aforefaid, Patroclus is a fool. Achil. Derive this; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles, Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Aga memnon, 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 to thy creator;--it fuffices me, thou art.

S CEN E VI.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Neftor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Calchas.

Look you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, I'll fpeak with no body: come in with me, Therfites.

[Exit. Ther. Here is fuch patchery, fuch jugling, 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 Serpigo on the fubject, and war and lechery confound all!

[Exit.

Aga

Aga. Where is Achilles?

Patr. Within his tent, but ill difpos'd, my lord.
Aga. 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 queftion of our place;
Or know not what we are.

Patr. I fhall fo say to him.

[Exit. Ulyff. We faw him at the opening of his tent, He is not fick.

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

[ To Agamemnon. Neft. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? Uly. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. Neft. Who, Therfites?

Ulyll. He.

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

Uly. 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 ftrong counsel, that a fool could difunite.

Uly. The amity, that wifdom knits not, folly may easily untye.

SCENE

Enter Patroclus.

Here comes Patroclus.

Neft. No Achilles with him?

VII.

Uly. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtefie; His legs are for neceffity, not flexure.

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

Aga. Hear you, Patroclus;

We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evafion, wing'd thus fwift with fcorn,
Cannot outflie our apprehenfions.

Much attribute he hath, and much the reafon
Why we afcribe it to him; yet all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lofe their glofs;
And like fair fruit in an unwholsome dish,
Are like to rot untafted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you fhall not fin,
If you do fay, we think him over-proud,
In felf-affumption greater than in note

Of judgment: fay, men worthier than himself
Here tend the favage ftrangeness he puts on,
Difguife the holy ftrength of their command,
And under-go in an obferving kind

His humourous predominance; yea, watch
(a) His pettifh lunes, his ebbs and flows; as if
The paffage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,

[(a) His pettif lunes. Oxford Editor-Vulg. pettish lines.】

That

P

That if he over-hold his price fo much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lye under this report,

Bring action hither, this can't go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a fleeping giant; tell him fo.

Patr. I fhall, and bring his anfwer presently. [Exit,
Aga. In fecond voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him. Ulyffes, enter.
[Exit Ulyffes,
Ajax. What is he more than another?

Aga. No more than what he thinks he is. Ajax. Is he fo much? do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am?

Aga. No queftion.

Ajax. Will you fubfcribe his thought, and say, he is?

Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wife, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow? I know not what it is.

Aga. Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer; he, that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

SCENE VIII.

Re-enter Ulyffes.

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

Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulyff. Achilles will not to the field to morrow.
Aga. What's his excufe?

Ulyff. He doth rely on none;

Bug

But carries on the ftream of his difpofe,
Without observance or refpect of any,
9 In will-peculiar, and in felf-admiffion.
Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his perfon, and share the air with us?

Uly. Things fmall as nothing, for request's fake only,

He makes important: he's poffeft with greatnefs,
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 difcourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself; what fhould I fay?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, no recovery.

Aga. 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 request a little from himself.

Ulyff. O, Agamemnon, let it not be fo. We'll confecrate the fteps that Ajax makes, When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord, That baftes his arrogance with his own feam, And never fuffers matters of the world Enter his thoughts, (fave fuch as do revolve And ruminate himself,) fhall 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,

9 In will-peculiar, and in felf-admiffion.] Will peculiar fhould be read like felf-admiffion with a hyphen. The meaning is, He does nothing but what his own will dictates, and approves of nothing but what his own fancy recommends.

1-He's poffeft with greatness,] i. e. greatnefs has got poffeffion of him, as the devil of a witch.

(As