(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.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a Lady, wifer, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek, did compafs in his Arms,
And will to Morrow with his Trumpet call,
Midway between your Tents, and Walls of Troy,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in love.
If any come, Hector fhall Honour him:
If none, he'll fay in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian Dames are Sun-burnt, and not worth
The fplinter of a Lance; even so much.

Aga. This fhall be told our Lovers, Lord Æneas.
If none of them have Soul in fuch a kind,
We have left them all at home: But we are Soldiers;
And may that Soldier a meer 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 Hector; if none, I'll be he.
Neft. Tell him of Neftor; one that was a Man
When Hector's Granfire fuckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mold,
One Nobleman, that hath one fpark of Fire,
To answer for his Love; tell him from me,
I'll hide my Silver Beard in a Gold Beaver,
And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd brawn,
And meeting him, will tell him, that my Lady
Was fairer than his Grandam, and as chafte
As may be in the World; his Youth is flood,
pawn this truth with my three drops of Blood.
Ane. Now Heav'ns forbid fuch fcarcity of Youth.
Vlys. Amen.

Aga. Fair Lord Æneas,

Let me touch your Hand:

To our Pavillion fhall I lead you first:
Achilles fhall have word of this Intent,

So fhall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent:

Your felf fhall feaft with us before you go,

And find the welcome of a Noble Foe.

U 4

[Exeunt. Manent

Manent Ulyffes and Neftor.

Vlyf. Neftor.

Neft. What fays Vlyffes?

Ulys. I have a young Conception in my Brain,
Be you my time to bring it to fome shape.
Neft. What is't?
Vlyf. This 'tis :

Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the seeded Pride
That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt,
Or, fhedding, breed a Nursery of like evil
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how now?

Vlyf. This Challenge that the valiant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general Name,

Relates in purpofe only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous even as Substance,
Whofe groffnefs little Characters fum up,
And in the publication make no flrain:
But that Achilles, were his Brain as barren
As Banks of Lybia, tho', Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough, will with great fpeed of Judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Uly. And wake him to the Anfwer, think you?
Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you elfe oppose
That can from Hector bring his Honour off,

If not Achilles? Though' be a sportful Combat,
Yet in this Trial m ch Opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans tafte our dear'st repute
With their fin'ft Palate: And truft to me, Vlyffes,
Our imputation fhall be odly poiz'd

In this wild Aation. For the fuccefs,
Although particular, fhall have a fcantling
Of good or bad, unto the General:
And in fuch Indexes, although fmall Pricks
To their fubfequent Volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of the Giant-mafs

Of things to come at large. It is fuppos'd,
He that meets Hector, iffues from our choice;
And choice being mutual act of all our Souls,

Makes

Makes Merit her Election, and doth boil
As 'twere from forth us all; a Man distill'd
Out of our Virtues; who mifcarrying,

What Heart from hence receives the conqu'ring part
To fteel a ftrong Opinion to themselves,
Which entertain'd, Limbs are his Inftruments,
In no lefs working, than are Swords and Bows
Directive by the Limbs.

Vlyf. Give pardon to my Speech:

Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector:
Let us, like Merchants, fhew our fowleft Wares,
And think perchance they'll fell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to fhew,
Shall fhew the better. Do not confent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet:

For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two ftrange Followers.

Neft. I fee them not with my old Eyes: What are they?
Vlyf. What glory our Achilles fhares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should wear with him:
But he already is too infolent;

And we were better parch in Africk Sun
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his Eyes,
Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd,
Why then we did our main Opinion crush
In taint of our beft Man. No, make a Lott'ry,
And by device let blockifh Ajax draw

The fort to fight with Hector: Among our felves,
Give him allowance as the worthier Man,
For that will Phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applaufe, and make him fall
His Creft, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in Voices; if he fail,
Yet go we under our Opinion ftil',

That we have better Men. But hit or miss,
Our Projects life this shape of fense affumes,
Ajax imploy'd, plucks down Achilles Plumes.
Neft. Now Vlyffes, I begin to relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him ftreight;

Two

Two Curs fhall tame each other; Pride alone

Muft tar the Mastiffs on, as 'twere their Bone.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

SCENE the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Therfites.

Herfites.

Ajax. Therfher. Agamemnon—how if he had Biles

full, all over generally.

Ajax. Therfites.

[Talking to himself.

Ther. And thofe Biles did run-fay fo---did not the General run, were not that a Botchy core?

Ajax. Dog.

Ther. Then there would come fome matter from him: I fee none now.

Ajax. Thou Bitch-Wolf's Son, canft thou not hear? Feel then,

[Strikes him. Ther. The Plague of Greece upon thee, thou Mungrel

beef-witted Lord.

Ajax. Speak then, you whinid'ft leaven, fpeak, I will beat thee into handfomnefs.

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 strike, canft thou? A 'red Murrain o'thy Jades tricks.

Ajax. Toads-tool, learn me the Proclamation.

Ther. Docft thou think I have no sense, thou strik’st me Ajax. The Proclamation.

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a Fool, I think.

[thus?

Ajax. Do not Porcupine, do not; my Fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didft itch from Head to Foot, and I had the ferarching of thee, I would make thee the loathfom'ft fcab in Greece.

Ajax. I fay, the Proclamation.

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatnefs, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's Beauty. I, that thou bark'ft at him.

Ajax. Cobloaf.

Ther. He would pun thee into Shivers with his Fift, as a

Sailor breaks a Bisket.

Ajax. You whorfon Cur.

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou ftool for a Witch.

[Beating him.

Ther. Ay, do, thou fodden-witted Lord; thou haft no more Brain than I have in my Elbows: An Afinico may tutor thee. Thou fcurvy valiant Afs, thou art here but to thresh Trojans, and thou art bought and fold among thofe of any wit, like a Barbarian Slave. If thou ufe to beat me, I will begin at thy Heel, and tell what thou art by Inches, thou thing of no Bowels, thou.

Ajax. You Dog.

Ther. You fcurvy Lord.

Ajax. You Cur.

[Beating him.

Ther. Mars his Idiot; do Rudeness, do Camel, do, do.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this? How now, Therfites? what's the matter, Man?

Ther. You fee him there, do you?

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.

Achil. Well, why I do fo.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him; for whofo

ever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

Achil. I know that, Fool.

Ther. Ay, but that Fool knows not himself.

Ajax. Therefore I beat ther.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his Evafions have Ears thus long. I have bob'd his Brain more than he has beat my Bones: I will buy nine Sparrows 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.