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I'll answer to my Luft: And know, my Lord,
I'll nothing do on charge; to her own worth
She fhall be priz'd: But that you fay, be't so:
I'll speak it in my Spirit and Honour-No.

Troi. Come to the Port-I'll tell thee, Diomede,
This Brave fhall oft make thee to hide thy Head:
Lady, give me your Hand-And as we walk,
To our own felves bend we our needful Talk.

Par. Hark, Hector's Trumpet !

[Sound Trumpet.

Ene. How have we spent this Morning? The Prince muft think me tardy and remifs, That fwore to ride before him in the Field. Par. 'Tis Troilus fault.

Come, come to Field with him.

Dio. Let us make ready ftrait.
Ene. Yea, with a Bridegroom's fresh alacrity
Let us addrefs to tend on Hector's Heels:
The Glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his fair Worth, and fingle Chivalry.


SCENE II. The Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax Armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulyffes, Neftor, Calchas, &c.

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Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating Time. With ftarting Courage,
Give with thy Trumpet à loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled Air
May pierce the Head of the great Combatant,
And hale him hither.

Ajax. Thou Trumpet, there's my Purse;
Now crack thy Lungs, and fplit thy Brafen Pipe:
Blow Villain, 'till thy fphered bias Cheek
Out-fwell the Cholick of puft Aquilon:

Come ftretch thy Cheft, and let thy Eyes fpout Blood:
Thou bloweft for Hector.

Uly. No Trumpet answers.

Achil. 'Tis but early days.


Enter Diomede and Creffida.

Aga. Is't not young Diomede with Calchas Daughter?
Vlyf. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his Gate,
He rifes on his Toe; that Spirit of his

In Afpiration lifts him from the Earth.
Aga. Is this the Lady Creffida?

Dio. Even she.

Aga. Moft dearly welcome to the Greeks, fweet Lady. Neft. Our General doth falute you with a Kifs.

Vlyf. Yet is your Kindness but particular; 'twere better fhe were kift in general.

Neft. And very courtly Counfel: I'll begin. So much for Neftor.

Achil. I'll take that Winter from your Lips; fair Lady, Achilles bids you welcome.

Men. I had good Argument for kiffing once.

Pair. But that's no Argument for kiffing now;
For thus pop'd Paris in his Hardiment.

Vlyf. Oh deedly Gall, and theme of all our Scorns,
For which we lofe our Heads to gild his Horns.
Patr. The firft was Menelaus kifs---this mine---
Patroclus kiffes you.

Men. O this is trim.

Patr. Paris and I kifs evermore for him.

Men. I'll have my kifs, Sir: Lady, by your leave.
Cre. In kiffing do you render, or receive?

Pair. Both take and give.

Cre. I'll make my match to give,

The kifs you take is better than you give; therefore no kifs.
Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
Cre. You are an odd Man, give even, or give none.
Men. An odd Man, Lady? every Man is odd.
Cre. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men. You fillip me o'th'head.

Cre. No, I'll be fworn.

Vlyf. It were no match, your Nail against his Horn: May I, fweet Lady, beg a kiss of you?

Cre. You may.

Vlyf. I do defire it.

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Cre. Why beg then.

Vlyf. Why then, for Venus fake give me a kiss
When Helen is a Maid again, and his

Cre. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.
Vlyf. Never's my Day, and then a kifs of you.
Dio Lady, a word-I'll bring you to your Father-
Neft. A Woman of quick Senfe.

[Diomedes leads out Creffida, then returns, Uly. Fie, fie upon her:

There's Language in her Eye, her Cheek, her Lips
Nay, her Foot fpeaks, her wanton Spirits look out
At every joint, and motive of her Body:
Oh these Encounters, are fo glib of Tongue,
That give a coafting welcome e'er it comes;
And wide unclafp the Tables of their Thoughts,
To every tickling Reader: Set them down,
For fluttish spoils of Opportunity,

And Daughters of the Game.

Enter Hector, Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Helenus, and Attendants. All. The Trojans Trumpet.

Aga. Yonder comes the Troop.

Ane. Hail all you ftate of Greece; what fhall be done To him that Victory commands? or do you purpose, A Victor shall be known? Will you, the Knights Shall to the edge of all extremity

Pursue each other, or fhall be divided.

By any Voice, or order of the Field? Hector bad ask.
Aga. Which way would Hector have it?

Ane. He cares not, he'll obey Conditions.
Aja. 'Tis done like Hector, but fecurely done,
A little proudly, and great deal despifing
The Knight oppos'd.

Ene. If not Achilles, Sir, what is your Name?
Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

Ane. Therefore Achilles; but whate'er, know this

Is the extremity of great and little:

Valour and Pride excel themfelves in Hector i
The one almoft as infinite as all,

The other blank as nothing; weigh him well;
And that which looks like Pride, is Curtefie;
This Ajax is half made of Hector's Blood,

In love whereof, half Hector ftays at home:
Half Heart, half Hand, half Hector, comes to seek
This blended Knight, half Irojan and half Greek.

Achil. A Maiden Battel then? O, I perceive you.
Aga. Here is Sir Diomede: Go, gentle Knight,
Stand by our Ajax; as you and Lord Eneas
Confent upon the order of their Fight,

So be it; either to the uttermoft,

Or else a breach, the Combatants being kin,
Half stints their ftrife before their ftrokes begin."
Vlyf. They are oppos'd already.

Ajax. What Trojan is that fame that looks so heavy?
Vlyf. The youngest Son of Priam,

And a true Knight; they call him Troilus,
Not yet mature, yet matchlefs, firm of Word,
Speaking in Deeds, and deedlefs in his Tongue;
Not foon provok'd, nor being provok'd, foon calm'd.
His Heart and Hand both open, and both free;
For what he has he gives, what thinks he fhews;
Yet gives he not 'till Judgment guide his Bounty,
Nor dignifies an impair Thought with Breath;
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous,

For Hector in his blaze of Wrath subscribes,
To tender Objects; but he in heat of Action
Is more vindicative than jealous Love,
They call him Troilus, and on him ere&t
A fecond hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus fays Aneas, one that knows the Youth,
Even to his Inches; and with private Soul,
Did in great Țlion thus tranflate him to me.
Aga. They are in Action.

Neft. Now Ajax hold thine own.


[Hector and Ajax fight.

Troi. Hector, thou fler p'ft, awake thee.

Aga. His Blows are well difpos'd; there Ajax. [Trumpets

Dio. You must no more.

Ane. Princes, enough, fo please you.

Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.

Dio. As Hector pleafes.

Hect. Why then, will I no more:

Thou art, great Lord, my Father's Sifter's Son;

A Coufin German to great Priam's Seed;




The obligation of our Blood forbids
A gory Emulation 'twixt us twain;

Were thy Commixion Greek and Trojan so,
That thou could'ft fay, this Hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the Sinews of this Leg
All Greek, and this all Troy: My Mother's Blood
Runs on the dexter Check, and this Sinifter
Bounds in my Father's: By Jove multipotent,
Thou should'ft not bear from me a Greekish Member
Wherein my Sword had not impreffure made
Of our rank feud; but the just Gods gainlay,
That any drop thou borrow ft from thy Mother,
My facred Aunt, fhould by my mortal Sword
Be drain'd. Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
By him that Thunders, thou haft lufty Arms;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus-
Coufin, all honour to thee.

Ajax. I thank thee, Hector:

Thou art too gentle, and too free a Man:
I came to kill thee, Coufin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy Death.

Helt. Not Neoptolemus lo mirable,


On whofe bright Creft, Fame with her loud'ft O yes,' Cries, This is he, could promife to himself

A thought of added Honour torn from Hector.

Ane. There is expectance here from both the fides: What further you will do.

Hect. We'll answer it:

The iffue is Embracement: Ajax, farewel.

Ajax. If I might in Entreaties find fuccefs,
As feld I have the chance; I would defire
My famous Coufin to our Grecian Tents.
Dio. Tis Agamemnon's wifh, and great Achilles
Doth long to fee unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Helt. Aneas, call my Brother Troilus to me:
Ard fignifie this loving Interview

To the expectors of the Trojan part:

Defire him home. Give me thy Hand, my Coufin:
I will go eat with thee, and fee your Knights.


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