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Ther. Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me,
Patroclus, what's Achilles
Patr. Thy lord, Therfites: then tell me,


pray thee, what's thyself?

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

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

Ther. I'll decline the whole question. 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 serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.

Patr. Why am I a fool ?

Ther. Make that demand to thy creator; suffices me, thou art.

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N E . VI.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysies, Neftor, Diomedes,

Ajax, and Calchas.
Look you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me, Therftes.

[Exit. Ther. Here is such patchery, such jugling, and such 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 subject, and war and lechery confound all! [Exit.


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Aga. Where is Achilles ?
Patr. Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my lord.

Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here.
• He shent our messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him
Let him be told so, left, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place ;
Or know not what we are.
Patr. I shall fo say to him.

[Exit. Ulys. We saw him at the opening of his tent, He is not sick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick 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 shew us the cause. A word, my lord.

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

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

Ulys. No, you see, he is his argument, that has his argument, Achilles.

Neft. All the better; their fraction is more our with than their faction ; but it was a strong counsel, that a fool could disunite.

Ulys. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untye.

8 He sent our messengers. -] This nonsense should be read,

He shENT our megengers, i. e. rebuked, rated.






Enter Patroclus. Here comes Patroclus.

Neft. No Achilles with him?
Ulys. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie;
His legs are for necessity, not flexure.

Patr. Achilles bids me say, he is much forry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleafre
Did move your greatness, 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 evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outflie our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss ;
And like fair fruit in an unwholsome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
In self-assumption greater than in note
Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the fayage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-go in an observing kind
His humourous predominance; yea, watch
(a) His pectilh lunes, his ebbs and Aows ; as if
The paffage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
[(a) His pettil lunes, Oxford Editor --Vulg. pertijl lines.]


That if he over-hold his price so 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 Neeping giant; tell him fo.

Patr. I shall, and bring his answer presently. [Exit,

Aga. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, We come to speak with him. Ulyles, enter.

[Exit Ulyffes, Ajax. What is he more than another Aga. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much ? do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am ?

Aga. No question.

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

Aga. No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, 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, deyours the deed in the praise.


Re-enter Ulysses. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engend, ring of toads.

Neft. Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulyf. Achilles will not to the field to morrow,
Aga. What's his excuse?
Ulys. He doth rely on none;


But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, 9 In will-peculiar, and in felf-admission.

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his person, and share the air with us?
Ulys. Things small as nothing, for request's fake

He makes important: 'he's poffest with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
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.

Aga. 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.

Ulyl. O, Agamemnon, let it not be fo.
We'll confecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own feam,
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, (fave 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 lo stale his palm, nobly acquir’d;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,

9 In will-peculiar, and in self-admision.] Will peculiar should be read like self-admission 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 polleft with greatness,] i.e. greatness has got posfellion of him, as the devil of a witch.


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