Ulyff. Amen. Aga. Fair lord Eneas, let me touch your hand: To our Pavilion fhall I lead you firft: Achilles fhall have word of this intent, So fhall each lord of Greece from tent to tent: SCENE VII. Manent Ulyffes and Neftor. ESTOR. Uly. NES Neft. What fays Ulyffes? [Exeunt. Uly I have a young conception in my brain, Uly. This 'tis :: Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the feeded pride, In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt, Or, fhedding, breed a nursery of like evil, Neft. Well, and how now? Ulyff. This Challenge that the gallant Helor fends, However it is fpread in general name, Relates in pupofe only to Achilles. Neft. The purpose is perfpicuous even as Substance, Whofe groffnefs little characters fum up. And, in the publication, make no ftrain, But that Achilles, were his brain as barren 'Tis dry enongh,) will with great speed of judgment, Uly. And wake him to the answer, think you? Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you elfe oppose, That That can from Hedor bring his honour off, In this wild action. For the fuccefs, And in fuch indexes, although small pricks Of things to come, at large. It is fuppos'd, What heart from hence receives the conqu'ring part, Uly. Give pardon to my speech; Therefore 'tis ineet, Achilles meet not Hector. For both our honour and our fhame in this Are dogg'd with two ftrange followers. Neft. I fee them not with my old eyes: : what are they? Uly. What glory our Achilles fhares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share with him: But he already is too infolent; And we were better parch in Afric Sun, Than Than in the pride and falt fcorn of his eyes, No, make a Lott'ry; And by divice let blockish Ajax draw The Sort to fight with Hector : 'mongst ourselves, Who broils in loud applaufe, and make him fall That we have better men. But, hit or mifs, [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. The Grecian Camp. Enter Ajax and Therfites. HERSITES,- THERSITES, AJAX. Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boils-full, all over, generally. Ajax. Therfites, [Talking to himself. Ther. And those boils did run-fay fo-did not the General run? were not that a botchy core? Ajax. Dog! Ther. Ther. Then there would come fome matter from him: I fee none now. Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's fon, canft thou not hear? feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted lord! * Ajax. Speak then, you windyeft leaven, speak; I will beat thee into handsomeness. Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but, I think, thy horfe will fooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book: thou canst ftrike, canft thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the proclamation. Ther. Doeft thou think, I have no fenfe, thou ftrik'ft me thus ? Ajax. The proclamation Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think. Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. Ther. I would, thou didft itch from head to foot, and I had the fcratching of thee; I would make thee the loath fom'ft fcab in Greece. Ajax. I fay, the proclamation Ther. Thou grumbleft and raileft every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his Greatness, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's Beauty: ay, that thou bark'ft at him. & Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites!. Ther. Thou fhouldft ftrike him. Ajax. Cobloaf! Ther. He would pound thee into fhivers with his fift, as a failor breaks a bisket. Ajax. You whore fon cur!. Ther. Do, do. Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch! [Beating him. ; an Ther. Ay, do, do, thou fodden-witted lord; thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows ; *Speak then, thou whinid'ft leaven,] This is the Reading of the old Copies. It should be windyeft, e. i. moft windy. Warb. Affinego Affinego may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant afs! thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and fold among thofe of any wit, like a Barbarian flave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou! do. Ajax. You dog! Ther. You fcurvy lord! Ajax. You cur! [Beating him. Ther. Mars his ideot! do, rudenefs; do, camel, do, SCENE II. Enter Achilles and Patroclus. Achil. WHY, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this? How now, Therfites? what's the matter, man ? Achil. Ay, what's the matter? Ther. Nay, look upon him. Achil. So I do, what's the matter? Ther. Nay, but regard him well. Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for whofoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. Achil. I know that, fool. Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters; his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain, more than he has beat my bones: I will buy. nine fparrows for a penny, and his Pia Mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord (Achilles) Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I fay of him. Achil. What? [Ajax offers to frike him, Achilles interpofes. VOL. IX. C |