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That by 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 finews. To end a Tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.

Neft. Most wisely hath Ulyffes here discover'd
The fever, whereof all our power is sick.

Aga. The nature of the sickness found, Ulyses,
What is the remedy?

Ulys. 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 ftopless Deputation he puts on;
And, like a ftrutting Player, (whose conceit
Lies in his ham-string, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and found
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage)
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested Seeming
He acts thy Creatness 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 chest laughs out a loud applause ::

* Thy to piels deputation ——- I susped the Puei wrote sioplesso i, c. unlimited; which was the Case.


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 fill 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 feel, 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, ferves
As ftuff for these two to make paradoxes.

Neft. And in the imitation of these iwain,
(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 sets Therfites
(A lave, whose gall coins llanders like a mint)
To match us in comparisons with dirt;
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How hard loever rounded in with danger.

Uly]. They tax our policy, and call it cowardise, Count wisdom as no member of the

war ;
Fore-Itall our prescience, and esteem no Ad
But that of hand : The still and mental parts,,
That do contrive how many hands fball 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 those, 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 founds. Aga. What trumpet ? look, Menelaus. Men. From Troy.

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Aga. WHA



Enter Æneas.
THAT would you 'fore our tent?
Æne. Is this great Agamemnon's tent,

I pray you ?
Aga. Even this.

Æne. 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 ?

Aga. How?

Æne. I ask, that I might waken Reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modelt as morning, when the coldly eyes
The youthful Phæbus:
Which is that God of office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamennon ?

Aga. This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.


Æne. 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

Nothing so full of heat. But


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

fcends. 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 İhalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.

Æne. Trumpet, blow loud :
Send thy brais voice thro' all these lazy tents;
And every Greck of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.

[The trumpets found.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A Prince callid He&tor (Priam is his father)
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce
Is rusty grown; he bad me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak : Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one amongst 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.
Heftor, 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.
If any come. He&or fhall honour him:
If none, he'll say 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 soul 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 Hiftor; if none else, I'm he.

Neft. Tell him of Nefior; one, that was a man
When He&tor'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 silver beard in a gold beaver
* And in

vantbrace put

this wither'd brawn;
And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the world : his youth in flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.

#ne. Now heav'ns forbid such scarcity of youth * And in my vantbrace] An Armour for the Arm, a vantbras.

Mr. Pope.


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