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Manent Ulysses and Nestor.
Ulyf. Neftor.
Nést. What says Wlyses?

vlys. I have a young Conception in my Brain, Be you my time to bring it to some 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, must or now be cropt,
Or, shedding, breed a Nursery of like evil
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how now?

Ulys. This Challenge that the valiant Hektor sends,
However it is spread in general Name, '
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

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

Vlyf. And wake him to the Answer, think you?

Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you else oppose
That can from Ilečtor bring his Honour off,
If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful Combat,
Yet in this Trial much Opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st sepute
With their fin'it Palate: And trust to me, Vlyßles,
Our imputation shall be odly poiz'd
In this wild A&ion. For the success,
Although particular, Mall have a scantling
Of good or bad, unto the General :
And in such Indexes, although small Pricks
To their subsequent Vo’umes, there is seen
The baby figure of the Giant-mass
Of things to come at large. It is supposid,
He that meets Hetfor, issues from our choice;
Ard choice being mucual act of all our Souls,


Makes Merit her Ele&ion, and doth boil
As 'twere from forth us all; a Man distilla
Out of our Virtues; who miscarrying,
What Heart from hence receives the conqu’ring part
To steel a strong Opinion to themselves,
Which entertain'd, Limbs are his Instruments,
In no less working, than are Swords and Bows
Diređive by the Limbs.

Ulys. Give pardon to my Speech:
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector :
Let us, like Merchants, shew our fowlest Wares,
And think perchance they'll sell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to shew,
Shall shew the better. Do not confent,
That ever He&tor and Achilles meet :
For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange Followers.

Neft. I see them not with my old Eyes : What are they?

Ulys. What glory our Achilles Mares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should wear with him:
But he already is too insolent;
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 foild,
Why then we did our main Opinion crush
In taint of our best Man. No, make a Lott'ry,
And by device let blockish Ajax draw.
The sort to fight with Hector: Among our selves,
Give him allowance as the worthyer Man,
For that will Phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in lowd applause, and make him fall
His Crest, 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 still,
That we have better Men. But hit or miss,
Our proje&s life this shape of sense assumes,
Ajax imploy'd, plucks down Achilles Plumes,

Nest. Now Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him fticight;


Two Curs shall tame each other; Pride alone
Must tar the Mastiffs on, as 'twere their Bone.


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SCENE the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Thersites.

Ther. Agamemnon---- how if he bad Biles. .full, all over generally,

[Talking to himself Ajax. Therfites.

Ther. And those Biles did run.--. say so... did not the General run, were not that a Botchy core?

Ajax. Dog.

Ther. Then there would come some matter from him: I see none now.

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

[Strikes him. Ther. The Plague of Greece upon thee, thou Mungrel beef-witted Lord.

Ajex. Speak then, you whinid'It leaven, speak, I will beat thee into handsomness.

Ther, I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think thy Horse will sooner con an Oration, than thou learn a Prayer without Book: Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red Murrain o’thy Jades tricks.

Ajax. Toads-stoo, learn me the Proclamation.
Ther. Doeft thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me
Ajax. The Proclamation.

[thus? Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a Fool, I think. Ajax, Do not Purcupine, do not; my Fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didit itch from Head to Foot, and I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathfom'st scab in Greece.

Ajax. I say, the Proclamation.

Ther. Thou grumblift and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's Beauty. I, that thou bark'st'at him.

Ajax. Mistress Therfites.
Ther. Thou shouldīt strike him.
Ajax. Cobloaf.

Ther. He would pun thee into Shivers with his Fist, as a
Sailor breaks a Bisket.
Ajax. You whorson Cur,

[Beating him, Ther. Do, do, Ajax. Thou stool for a Witch.

Ther. Ay, do, thou fodden-witted Lord; thou haft na more Brain than I have in mine Elbows: An Afinico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant Afs, thou art here but to thresh Trojaxs, and thou art bought and fold among those of any wit, like a Barbarian Slave. 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.

Ajax. You Dog.
Ther. You scuryy 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, Therftes? what's the matter, Man?

Ther. You see 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 so.

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

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, bis Evasions have Ears thus long. I have bobb'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 say of him

Achil. What? [Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes.
Ther. I say, this Ajax
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.
Ther. Has not so much wit
Achil, Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will stop the Eye of Helen's Needle, for whom he comes to fight.

Acbil. Peace, Foo!.

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the Fool will not; he there, that he, look you there.

Ajat. O thou damn'd Cur, I shall.
Achil. Will you set your wit to a Fool's ?
Ther. No, I warrant you, for a Fool's will shame it.
Pat. Good Words, Therfites.
Achil. What's the Quarrel?

Ajax. I bad the vile Owl, go learn me the tenure of the Proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.
Ajax. We'll, go to, go to.
Ther. I serve here voluntary.

Achil. Your last Service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary, no Man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an Impress.

Ther. E'en so.--a great a deal of your wit too lies in your Sinews, or else there be Liars: Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your Brains, he were as good crack a fusty Nut with no Kernel.

Achil. What, with me too, Therfites?

Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, whose Wit was mouldy e'er their Grandfires had Nails on their Toes, yoke you like draft Oxen, and make you plough up the wair.

Achil. What! what!
Ther. Yes, good footh, to Achilles, to Ajax, to-

Ajax. I shall cut out your Tongue. Ther. 'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou af. terwards.

Pat. No more Words, Therfites.

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles Brach bids me, shall I? Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.


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