Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange?

Re-enter ULYSSES.

[Aside.

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. Agam. What's his excuse?

Ulyss. He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission.

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request, Untent his person, and share the air with us?

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,

He makes important: Possess'd he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
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 down himself: What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry-No
Cry No recovery.

Agam.

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.

9 the death-tokens of it-] Alluding to the decisive spots appearing on those infected by the plague.

Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes

When they go from Achilles: Shall the proud lord,
That bastes 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 worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,

By going to Achilles :

That were to enlard his fat-already pride;2

And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.

This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid;

And say in thunder-Achilles, go to him.

Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

[Aside.

Dio. And how his silence drinks. up this applause!

Aside.

Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash him3

Over the face.

Agam. O, no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride:1

Let me go to him.

lard.

with his own seam;] Swine-seam, in the North, is hog's

2 That were to enlard, &c.] This is only the well-known proverb-Grease a fat sow, &c. in a more stately dress.

3

4

I'll pash him-] i. e. strike him with violence. pheeze his pride:] To pheeze is to comb or curry.

Ulyss. Not for the worth' that hangs upon our

quarrel.

Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow,

Nest.

Himself!

How he describes

[Aside.

The raven

Chides blackness.

[Aside.

Ajax.

I will let his humours blood.

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the

patient.

[Aside.

Ajax. An all men

Were o'my mind,

Ulyss.

Wit would be out of fashion.

[Aside.

Ajax. He should not bear it so,

He should eat swords first: Shall pride carry it?
Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half.

Ulyss.

[Aside.

He'd have ten shares.

[Aside.

Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple:Nest. He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises:

Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

[Aside. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dis[To AGAMEMNON. Nest. O noble general, do not do so.

like.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him

harm.

Here is a man-But 'tis before his face;

I will be silent.

Nest.

Wherefore should you so?

"Not for the worth-] Not for the value of all for which we are fighting.

-force him-] i. e. stuff him. Farcir, Fr.

He is not emulous,' as Achilles is.

Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus

with us!

I would, he were a Trojan!

Nest.

Were it in Ajax now—
Ulyss.

What a vice

If he were proud?

Ay, or surly borne?

Dio. Or covetous of praise?

Ulyss.

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected?

Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of

sweet composure;

Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition:

But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn,' a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor,-
Instructed by the antiquary times,

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise;-
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days

7 He is not emulous,] Emulous, in this instance, and perhaps in some others, may well enough be supposed to signify—jealous of higher authority.

that shall palter-] That shall juggle with us, or fly from his engagements.

"Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield-] i. e. yield his titles, his celebrity for strength. Addition, in legal language, is the title given to each party, showing his degree, occupation, &c. as esquire, gentleman, yeoman, merchant, &c.

Our author here, as usual, pays no regard to chronology. Milo

of Croton lived long after the Trojan war.

1

like a bourn,] A bourn is a boundary, and sometimes a rivulet dividing one place from another.

VOL. VII.

BB

As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax.

Shall I call

Nest. Ay, my good son.

Dio.

you father?

Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;

Fresh kings are come to Troy: To-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here's a lord,-come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw
deep.
[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace.

Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.

Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not you follow the young lord Paris?

Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.

Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?

Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman; I

must needs praise him.

Serv. The lord be praised!

Pan. You know me, do you not?

Serv. 'Faith, sir, superficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord Pandarus.