Achil. Where, where? art thou come? why, my Cheese, my Digestion why hast thou not served thy self up to my Table, so many Meals & Come, what's Agamemnon?

? Ther. Thy Commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles ?

Patr. Thy Lord, Therfites : then tell me, I pray thee, what's thy self?

Ther. Íhy Knower, Patroclus : then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou ??

Pair. Thou may'st tell, that know'st.
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 Fco!,

Parr. You Rascal
Ther, Peace, Fool, I have done.
Achil. He is a privileg'd Man. Proceed, Therfites.

Ther. Agamemnon is a Fool, Achilles is, a Fool, Thersites is a Fool, and, as aforesaid, 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 Agamemnon, Therfites is a Fool to serve such a Fool, and Patroclus is a Fool positive.

Patr. Why am I a Fool?
Enter Agamemnon, Ulyfles, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax,

and Chalcas.
Ther. Make that demand to thy Creator, it suffices me
thou art.

Look
you,
who comes here?

?
Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with no Body: Come in with
me, Ther sites.

[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 emulatious Fa&ions, and bleed to Death upon : Now the dry Serpigo on the Subject, and War and Lechery confound all.

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 sent our Messengers, and we lay by
Our Appertainments, visiting of him:

a

a

Let him be told of, lest perchance he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what what we are.
Patr. I shall so say to him.

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

Ajax. Yes, Lion-fick, fick 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 thew us the cause. A word, my Lord.

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

Neft. Then will Ajax lack Matter, if he have lost his Argument.

VhS. No, you see he is his Argument, that his his Argument, Achilles.,

Neft. All the better, this Frađion is more our wish than their Fađion ; but it was a strong Counsel that a Fool could disunite.

Ulys. The Amity that Wisdom koits not, Folly may eafily untye.

Enter Patroclus. Here comes Patroclus.

Neft. No Achilles with him? Ulys. The Elephant hath Joints, but none for Courtesie; His Legs are Legs for necessity, not for flight.

, Parr. Achilles bids me say, he is much forry, If

any thing more than your Sport and Pleasure, Did move your Greatness, and this noble State, To call upon him ; he hopes it is no other,

;
But for your health and your digestion-lake;
An after-Dinner's Breath,

Aga. Hear you, Patroclus ;
We are too well acquainted with these Answers :
But his evasion wing'd thus swife with (corn,
Cannot outflie our Apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason,
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his Virrues,
(Not virtuously of his own part beheld)
Do in our Eyes begin to lofe their Gloss ;

And

X 3

And like fair Fruit in an unwholsom Dish,
Are like to rot untasted; go and tell him,
We come to speak with him, and you mall not sin;
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in Self-assumption greater
Than in the note of Judgment; and worthier than himself,
Here tend the favage Strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy Strength of their command,
And under write in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lines, his ebbs, his Aws; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this A&ion
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price fo much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an Engine
Not portable, lye under this report.
Bring A&ion hither, this cannot go to War:
A stirring Dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a feeping Gyant; tell him fo.

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

Aga. In second Voice we'll not be satisfied,, We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you.

(Exit Ulysses. 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 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 G'ass, his own Trumpet, his own Chronicle, and whateyer Praises it self but in the Deed, devours the Deed in the Praise.

Enter

Enter Ulysses.
Ajax. I do hate a proud Man, as I hate the engendring of
Toads.

Neft. Yet he loves himself: Is't not strange?
Ulys. Achilles will not to the Field to Morrow.
Aga. What's his Excuse!

vlys. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the Stream of his Dispose,
Without observance or respea of any,
In Will peculiar, and in Self-admission,

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his Person, and Mare the Air with us?

Ulys. Things small as Nothing, for Requests fake only
He makes Important : Pofleft he is with Greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a Pride
That quarrels at Self-breath. Imagin'd Wrath
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 'gainst it self; 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.

Ulys. O, Agamemnon, let it not be so.
We'll confecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles; fhall the proud Lord,
That baftes his Arrogance with his own Seam,
And never suffers matter of the World
Enter his Thoughts, save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself? Shall he be worship’d,
Of that we hold an Idol, more than be?
No, this Thrice Worthy, and Right Valiant Lord,
Muft not fo ftale his Palm, nobly acquir’d,
Nor by my Will asubjugate his Merit,
As amply Titid, as Achilles is, by going to Achilles.
That were to enlard his Fat, already, Pride,
And add more Coles to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.

This

X 4

This Lord go to him? Fupiter forbid,
And say in Thunder, Ashilles go to him.

Neft. O this is well, he rubs the Vein of him.
Dio. And how his filence drinks up his Applause.
Ajax. If I go to him — with my armed Fift, I'll pash

-
him o'er the Face.

Aga. O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. And a be proud with me, I'll phese his Pride; let
me go to him.

vlys. Not for the worth that hangs upon our Quarrel.
Ajax. A paultry Insolent Fellow
Neft. How he describes himself.
Ajax. Can he not be sociable?
Ulys. The Raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his Humours Blood.
Aga. He will be the Physician, that should be the Patient.
Ajax. And all Men were a my Mind
Ulys. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. A should not bear it so, a should eat Swords first;
shall Pride

carry

it?
Neft. And 'would, you'd carry

half.
Vlyf. A would have ten shares.

Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet through warm.

Neft. Force him with Praises, pour in, pour in, his Am-
bition is dry.

Vlys My Lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Nést. Our noble General, do not do fo.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a Man----but 'tis before his Face--.**
I will be filent.
Neft. Wherefore should

you
He is not (mulous, as Achilles is.

Vlyf. Know the whole World, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whorson Dog! that shall palter thus with us
would he were a Trojan.

Neft. What a Vice were it in Ajax now
Vlys. If he were proud.
Dio. Or coverous of Praise.
Ulyfi Ay, or furly born.

m

!

so?