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SCEN E II. The Grecian Camp. Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Neftor, Menelaus
and Calchas, Cal. Now, Princes, for the Service I have done you, Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud, To call for recompence : Appear it to your Mind, That through the fight I bear in things to come, I have abandon'd Troy, left my Possellion, Incurr'd a Traitor's Name, expos'd my self, From certain and posseft Conveniencies, To doubtful Fortunes, sequestring from me all That Time, Acquaintance, Custom, and Condition, Made tame, and most familiar to my Nature : And here to do you Service am become As new into the World, strange, unacquainted. I do beseech you, as in way of taste, To give me now a little benefit, Out
of those many Registred in Promise, i Which you fay live to come in my behalf.
Aga. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan ? Make demand.
Cal. You have a Trojan Prisoner, callid Anthenor,
Yesterday took : Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you (often have you, Thanks therefore)
Defir'd my Cressid in right great Exchange,
Whom Troy hath still deny'd : But this Anthenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their Affairs,
That their Negotiations all must Black,
• Wanting this Manage; and they will almost
Give us a Prince o'ch' Blood, a Son of Priam,
In change of him. Let him be sent, great Princes,
And he shall buy my Daughter : And her presence
Shall quite strike off all Service I have done,
In molt accepted pain.
Aga. Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cresid hither : Calchas shall have
What he requests of us: Good Diomede,
Furnish you fairly for this erterchange;
With all, bring Word, if Hector will to Morrow
Be answer'd in his Challenge. Ajax is ready.
Dio. This shall I undertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to bear.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus, in their Tent.
Ulyf. Achilles stands i'ch' entrance of his Tent;
Please it our General to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and Princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:
I will come laft, 'tis like he'll question me,
Why such unplausive Eyes are bent? why turnid on him ?
If so, I have Decision medicinable,
To use between our Strangeness and his Pride,
Which his owo Will shall have desire to drink;
It may.do good: Pride bath no other Glass
To thiew it felf, but Pride; for supple Knees
Feed Arrogance, and are the proud Man's Fees.
Aga. We'll execute your Purpose, and put on
A form of Strangeness as we pass along,
So do each Lord, and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall Make him more,
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the Way.
Achil. What, comes the General to speak with me?
You know my Mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. .
Aga. What lays Achilles, would he ought with us?
Neft. Would you, my Lord, ought with the General ?
Neft. Nothing, my Lord.
Aga. The better.
Achil. Good Day, good Day.
Men. How do you? How do you?
Achil. What, does the Cuckold scorn me?
Aja. How now, Parroclus ?
Achil. Good Morrow, Ajax.
Achil. Good Morrow.
Aja. Ay, and good next Day too.
Achil. What mean these Fellows? Know they not Achilles?
Pair. They pals strangely: They were us'd to bend,
To send their Smiles before them to Achilles :
To come as humbly as they us’d to creep to Holy Alcars.
Achil. What, am I poor of late?
Tis certain, Greatness once fallin out with Fortune,
Must fall out with Men too: What the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the Eyes of others,
As feel in his own Fall: For Men, like Butter-flies,
Shew not their mealy Wings, bue to the Summer;
And nor a Man, for being simple Man,
Hith any Honour, but honour'd by those Honours
That are without him; as Place, Riches, Favour, A
Prizes of Accident, as oft as Merit:
Which when they fall (as being flippery standers)
The Love that lean’d on them as slippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Dye in the Fall: But 'tis not so with me,
Fortune and I are Friends, I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these Mens Looks, who do methinks find out
Something in me not worth that rich Beholding i
As they have often given. Here is lyses,
I'll interrupt his Reading. How now Ulyfes?
Ulys. Now, great Thetis Son!
Achil. What are you reading?
Ulys. A strange Fellow here
Writes me, that Man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without, or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath ;
Nor feels not what he owes, but by Reflection,
As when his Virtues shining upon others,
Heat them, and they retort that Heat again
To the first Giver.
Achil. This is not strange, Ululles,
The Beauty that is born here in the Face,
The Bearer knows not, but commends it self,
Not going from it self, but Eye to Eye oppos'd,
Salute each other, with each others Form.
For Speculation turns not to it self,
'Till it hath travelled, and is marry'd there
Wh-re it may see it self; this is not strange at all.
Vlys. I do not strain at the Position,
It is familiar; but at the Author's drift;
Who in his Circumstance, exprefly proves
That no Man is the Lord of any thing,
(Tho' in and of him) there is much consisting,
'Till he communicate his Parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for ought,
'Till he behold them formed in th' Applause,
Where they're exterded: Which like an Arch reverb'rates
The Voice again, or like a Gate of Steel,
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? A very Horse,
That as he knows nor Nature, what things are
Most abje& in Regard, and dear in Use;
What things again most dear in the Esteem,
in Worth: Now shall we see to Morrow,
And aa chat very Chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! O Heav'ns, what some Men do,
While some Men leave to do!
How some Men creep in skittish Fortune's Hall,
Woules others play the Idiots in her Eyes:
How one Man eats into another's Pride,
While Pride is fasting in his Wantonness!
To see these Grecian Lords; why, even already,
They clap the Lubber Ajax on the Shoulder,
As if his Foot were on brave Hector's Breaft,
And great Tray shrinking.
Achil. I do believe it,
For hey past by me, as Misers do by Beggars,
Nerther gave .o me,good word, nor good look:
What, are my Deeds forgot?
Ulys. Time hath, my Lord, a Wallet at his Back,
Wherein he purs Alms for Oblivion :
A great-fizid 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, dear my Lord,
Keeps Honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty Male
In monumental Mock’ry: Take the instant way,
For Honour travels in a Streight so narrow,
Where one but goes abrealt, keep then the Path,
For Emulation bath a thousand Sons,
That one by one pursue; if you give Way
Or hedge aside from the dire& forth-right,
Like to an entred Tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;
Or like a gallant Horse fallin in first Rank,
Lye there for pavement to the abjec, near
O’er-run and tramplid on: Then what they do in present
Tho' less than yours in past, must o'er-top yours:
For Time is like a fashionable Host,
That slightly shakes his parting Guest by th' Hand;
And with Arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Crasps in the Comer; the Welcome ever smiles,
And Farewel goes out fighing: O let not Virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for Beauty, Wit,
High Birth, Vigour of Bone, Desert in Service,
Love, Friendship, Charity, are Subje&s all
To envious and calumniating Time:
One touch of Nature makes the whole World Kin;
That all with one consent praise new-born Gauds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things past,
go to Duft, that is, a little Gilt;
More Laud in Gilt o'er-dusted,
The present Eye, praises the present Obje&.
Then marvel not, thou great and compleat Man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion 'gin to catch the Eye,
Than what not stirs; the Cry went out on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thy self alive,
And case thy Reputation in thy Tent;
Whose glorions Deeds, but in these Fields of late,
Made emulous milions'mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to Faction.
Achil. Of this my Privacy,
I have strong Reasons.
Ulys. But 'gainst your Privacy,
The Reasons are more potent and heroical:
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in Love
With one of Priam's Daughters.
Acbil. Ha ! known!