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To answer for his love: tell him from me,
I'll hide my filver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn;
And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chafte
As may be in the world: his youth in flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.
Ene. Now heav'ns forbid fuch scarcity of youth!
Ulyff. Amen.

Aga. Fair lord Eneas, let me touch your hand:
To our Pavillion fhall I lead you firft:

Achilles fhall have word of this intent,

So fhall each lord of Greece from tent to tent:
Your felf fhall feaft with us before you go,

And find the welcome of a noble foe.

Ulyff. Neftor,

Manent Ulyffes and Neftor.

Neft. What fays Ulysses?

Uly. I have a young conception in my brain,
Be you my time to bring it to fome shape.
Neft. What is't?

Ulyff. This 'tis :

Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the feeded pride,
That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles, muft or now be cropt,

Or, fhedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To over-bulk us all.

Neft. Well, and how now ?

[Exeunt.

Uly. This Challenge that the gallant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general name,

Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Neft. The purpose is perfpicuous even as Substance, (15) Whose groffnefs little characters fum up.

(15) The Purpofe is perfpicuous ev'n as Substance, Whofe Graffnefs little Characters fum up,

And

And in the Publication make no Strain:] The modern Editors, 'tis plain, have lent each other very little Information upon this Paffage: Tupads Tupa@ odnyds, as the Proverb fays; the Blind have led the Blind. As they have pointed the Paffage, 'tis ftrange Stuff; and how they folv'd

And, in the publication, make no ftrain,
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, (tho', Apollo knows,

'Tis dry enough,) will with great speed of judgment, Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose

Pointing on him.

Ulyff. And wake him to the answer, think you?
Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you elfe oppofe,
That can from Hector bring his honour off,

If not Achilles? though a fportful combat,
Yet in this tryal much opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st Repute
With their fin'ft palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation fhall be odly pois'd

In this wild action. For the fuccefs,
Although particular, fhall give a fcantling
Of good or bad unto the general:

And in fuch indexes, although fmall pricks
To their fubfequent volumes, there is feen
The baby figure of the giant-mafs

Of things to come, at large. It is fuppos'd,
He, that meets Hector, iffues from our Choice;
And Choice, being mutual act of all our fouls,
Makes merit her election; and doth boil,
As 'twere, from forth us all, a man diftill'd.
Out of our virtues; who mifcarrying,

What heart from hence receives the conqu'ring part,
To fteel a strong opinion to themselves!

Which entertain'd, limbs are his inftruments,

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it to themselves, is paft my Discovery. That little Characters, or Particles, fum up the Groffnefs of any Substance, I conceive: but how thofe Characters, or Particles, make no Strain in the Publication, feems a little harder than Algebra. My Regulation of the Pointing brings us to clear Senfe; "The Aim and Purpose of this Duel is as vifible as any grofs "Substance can be, compounded of many little Particles:" And having faid thus, Ulyffes goes on to another Obfervation; "And make no Difficulty, no Doubt, when this Duel comes to be proclaim'd, but that "Achilles, dull as he is, will discover the Drift of it." This is the Meaning of the laft Line. So afterwards, in this Play, Ulyffes fays,

66

I do not strain at the Pofition,

i. e. I do not hesitate at, I make no Difficulty of it.

32

In no lefs working, than are fwords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

Ulyff. Give pardon to my Speech;

Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, fhew our fouleft wares,
And think, perchance, they'll fell; if not,
The luftre of the better, yet to fhew,
Shall fhew the better. Do not then consent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet:

For both our honour and our shame in this

Are dogg'd with two ftrange followers.

Neft. I fee them not with my old eyes: what are they?
Uly. What Glory our Achilles fhares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him :
But he already is too infolent;

And we were better parch in Africk Sun,
Than in the pride and falt fcorn of his eyes,
Should he fcape Hector fair. If he were foil'd,
Why, then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our beft man. No, make a Lott❜ry;
And by device let blockifh Ajax draw

The Sort to fight with Hector: 'mong our felves,
Give him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will phyfick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applaufe, and make him fall
His Creft, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come fafe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion ftill,

That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of fense affumes,
Ajax, imploy'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Neft. Ulyffes, now I relish thy advice,
And I will give a tafte of it forthwith
To Agamemnon; go we to him ftreight;
Two curs fhall tame each other; pride alone

Must tar the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. [Exeunt.

ACT

T

ACT II.

SCENE, the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax and Therfites.

AJAX.

HERSITES,

Ther. Agamemnon-how if he had boilesfull, all over, generally. [Talking to himself. Ajax. Therfites,

Ther. And those boiles did run-fay fodid not the General run? were not that a botchy core? Ajax. Dog!

Ther. Then there would come fome matter from him: I fee none now.

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's fon, canft thou not hear? feel then. [Strikes him. Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted lord!

Ajax. Speak then, you unwinnow'd'ft (16) leaven, fpeak; I will beat thee into handfomnefs.

VOL. VII.

C

Ther.

(16) Speak then, you unfalted Leaven, Speak ;] This is a Reading obtruded upon us by Mr. Pope, that has no Authority or Countenance from any of the Copies; nor that approaches in any Degree to the Traces of the old Reading, you whinid't Leaven. This, 'tis true, is corrupted and unintelligible; but the Emendation, which I have coin'd out of it, gives us a Sense apt and consonant to what Ajax would say. "Thou Lump "of fow'r Dough, kneaded up out of a Flower unpurg'd and unfifted, "with all the Drofs and Bran in it."- Kent, in Lear, uses the fame

metaphorical Reproach to the cowardly Steward;

I will tread this unboulted Villain into Mortar.

i. c. This Villain of so grofs a Compofition, that he was not fifted thro'

the

Ther. I fhall fooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but, I think, thy horfe will fooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer without book: thou canst ftrike, canft thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks!

Ajax. Toads-ftool, learn me the proclamation.

Ther. Doeft thou think, I have no fenfe, thou strik'st me thus ?

Ajax. The proclamation

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.

Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. Ther. I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the fcratching of thee; I would make thee the loathfom'ft fcab in Greece.

Ajax. I fay, the proclamation

Ther. Thou grumbleft and raileft every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his Greatness, as Cerberus is at Proferpina's Beauty: I, that thou bark'st at him.

Ajax. Miftrefs Therfites!

Ther. Thou fhouldst strike him.
Ajax. Cobloaf!

Ther. He would pound thee into fhivers with his fift,

as a failor breaks a bisket.

Ajax. You whorfon cur!

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou ftool for a witch!

[Beating him.

Ther. Ay, do, do, thou fodden-witted lord; thou haft no more brain than I have in my elbows: an Affinego may tutor thee. Thou fcurvy valiant afs! thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and fold among thofe of any wit, like a Barbarian flave. If thou

the boulting-Cloth, before he was work'd up into Leaven. So Pandarus fays to Troilus in the firft Scene of this Play.

Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.

I cannot without Injuftice pafs over another Conjecture, propos'd by my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton ;- - you windiefst Leaven. An Epithet, as he fays, not only admirably adapted to the Nature of Leaven, which is made only by Fermentation, but likewise most justly applied to the loquacious Therfites. And, indeed, in feveral Counties of England, an

idle Prater is call'd, a windy Fellow.

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