« AnteriorContinuar »
eyes : : nor doth the
(That most pure spirit of sense) behold itself
Not going from itself; 'but eyes oppos'd
Salute each other with each others' form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
'Till it hath travellid, and is marry'd there
Where it may see its self; this is not strange.
Ulyl. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but the author's drift;
Who, in his circumstance, exprelly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Tho'in, and of, him there is much confifting)
Till he communicate his parts to others ;
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,
'Till he behold them formed in th' applause
Where they're extended; which, like an arch, re-
The voice again; or, like a gate of feel
Fronting the Sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt.in this,
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.-
Heav'ns! what a man is there?
horse, That has he knows not what. Nature! what things
Most abject in regard, and dear in use?
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth? now shall we fee to-morrow
An Ad, that very Chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! Oh heav'ns, what some men do,
While some men leave to do!
* How some men fleep in skittila Fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes ;
* How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall,] This is said with Design that Achilles should apply it to himself and Ajax. But as creep is to be applied to Achilles, it conveys a wrong Idea, as representing one who is timorous and afraid to atchieve great Aas: So that we should read, How some men deep in skittish Fortune'a hall. Warb.
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonness !
To fee thefe Grecian lords ! why ev'n already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Heftor's breast,
And great Troy fhrinking.
Achil. This I do believe ;
For they passed by me, as misers do by beggars.
Neither gave to me good word, nor good look :
What! are my deeds forgot?
Uly]. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion :
(A great-fiz'd monster of ingratitudes)
Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done : Perseverance keeps Honour bright:
To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rusty mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a streight fo narrow,
Where one but goes abreast? keep then the path;
For Emulation harh a thousand fons,
That one by one pursue ; if you give way,
Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindermoft; and there you lie,
Like io a gallant horse fall’n in first rank,
* For pavement 10 the abject Rear, o'er-run
And trampled on: Then what they do in present,
Tho' less than yours in past, muft o'er-top yours.
For time is like a fashionable holt,
That slightly lhakes his parting guest by th' hand;
But with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer; Welcome ever smiles,
And Farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue
seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; * For pavement to the abje&l gear, -] We should read, abjcar
Warb. D 5
For beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service,
Love, friendfhip, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time:
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all, with one consent, praise new-born Gawds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than they will give to gold o'er-dufted :
The present eye praises the present object.
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The Cry went once for thee,
And fill it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous millions 'mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to fa&tion.
Achil. Of my privacy
I have strong reasons.
Ulyd. 'Gainst your privacy
The reasons are more potent and heroical.
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.
Achil. Ha! known !
Ulyl. Is that a wonder ?
The providence, that's in a watchful State,
Knows almost every grain of Pluto's Gold;
Finds bottom in th' ancomprehensive Deep;
Keeps place with thought; and almoft, like the
Gods, Does ev'n our thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. There is a mystery (with which relation Durst never meddle) in the Soul of State ; Which hath an operation more divine, Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to. All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfe&ly is ours, as yours, my lord.
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena.
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When Fame shall in his island found her trumps-
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping fing,
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewel, my lord, as your lover, speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice, that you should break.
S CE N E VIII. Pat. O this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you;
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of act. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, reftrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloofe his am'rous fold;
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector !
Pat. Ay, and, perhaps, receive much honour by
Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
Pat. O then beware :
Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves :
Omiflion to do what is necessary
Seals a Commission to a Blank of Danger;
And Danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then, when we fit idly in the Sun.
Achil. Go call Ther sites hither, sweet Patroclus :
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
T'invite the Trojan lords, after the Combat,
To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's Longing
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in the Weeds of
peace; To talk with him, and to behold his visage, Ev'n io my full of view. A labour sav'd !
Achil. What ? Ther. Ajax, goes up and down the field, asking for himself.
Achil. How fo ?
Ther. He must fight fingly to-morrow with Hedor, and is fo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.
Achil. How can that be?
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride and a stand; ruminates like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain, to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say, there were wit in his head, if 'would out; and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not fhew without knocking. The man's undone for ever: for if He&tor break not · his neck i'ch' combat, he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me: I said, good-morrow, Ajax : And he replies, thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the General? he's grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster. A plague of opinion! a inan may wear it on both sides, like a leather Jerkin.
Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Therfites.
Ther. Who, 1?why, he'll answer no body; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars ;