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To match us in Comparisons with Dirt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How rank foever rounded in with danger.

Ulys. They tax our Policy, and call it Cowardise,
Count Wisdom as no Member of the War,
Fore-stall our Prescience, and esteem no Act,
But that of Hand: The still and mental Parts,
That do contrive how many Hands shall strike
When fitness calls them on, and know by measure
Of their observant Toil, the Enemies weight,
Why this hath not a Finger's dignity;
They call this Bed-work, Mapp'ry, Closet-War :
So that the Ram, that batters down the Wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his Hand that made the Engine,
Or those that with the fineness of their Souls,
By Reason guide his Execution.

Neft. Let this be granted, and Achilles Horse
many Thetis' Sons,

[Tuc et founts.
Aga. What Trumpet? Look Menelaus,
Men. From Troy.

Enter Æneas.
Aga. What would you 'fore our Tent?
Æne. Is this great Agamemnon's Tent, I pray you ?
Aga. Even this.

Æne. May one that is a Herald and a Prince,
Do a fair Message to his Kingly Ears?

Aga. With surety stronger than Achilles Arm,
Fore all the Greekin Heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon Head and General.

Æne, Fair leave, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial Looks,
Know them from Eyes of other Mortals?

Aga. How?

Æne. Ay: I ask, that I might waken Revorence,
And on the Cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as Morning, when ihe coldly eyes
The youthful Phæbus':
Which is that God in Office, guiding Men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon


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And like a strutting Player, whose Conceit
Lies in his Ham-string, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden Dialogue and Sound
'Twixt his stretch'd footing, and the Scaffoldage,
(Such to-be-pitied, and o'er-rufted seeming
He acts thy Grcatness in) and when he speaks,
'Tis like a 'Chime a mending; with terms unsquar’d;
Which from the Tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would seem Hyperboles. At this fully stuff
The large Achilles, on his prest-bed Tolling,
From his deep Cheit, laughs out a loud Applause:
Cries excellent !...'tis Agamemnon just..
Now play me Neftor-chum, and stroke thy Beard
As he, being drest'to some Oration:
That's done; as near as the extreameft Ends
Of Parallels; as like aș Vulcan and his Wife:
Yet good Achilles still crics, Excellent !
'Tis Nestor righe! Now play him, me, Parroclus,
Arming to answer in a Nigh:-alarm-
And then, forsooth, the faint defe&s of Age
Must be the Scene of Mirth, to cough and spit,
And with a Pallie fumbling on his Gorget,
Shake in and out the Rivet -and at this sport,
Sir Valour dies; cries, O!-enough Patroclus-
Or, give me Ribs of Steel, I shall split all
In plasure of my Spleen. And in this fashion
All our Abilities, Gifts, Natures, Shapes,
Severals and generals of Grace exact,
Atchievements, Pots, Orders, Preventions,
Excitements to the Ficld, or speech for Truce,
Success or Lors, what is, or is not, serves
As stuff for these two, to make Paradoxes.

Neft. And in the Imitation of these twai"
Wno, as Olyles says, Opinion crowns
With an Imperial Voice, many are infect
Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his i
In such a Rein, in full as proud a plac
As broad Achilles, and keeps his Ter
Makes fidious Feafts, rail
Beid as an Oracle, and
A Sove (whose Gall

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Aza. This Trojan (corns us, or the Men of Troy Are ceremonious Courtiers.

Ane. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm’d,
As bending Angels; that's their Fame, in peace:
But when they would seem Soldiers, they have Galls,
Good Arms, strong Joints, true Swords, and Jove's accord,
Nothing so full of Heart. But peace, Æneas,
Peace Trojan, lay thy Finger on thy Lips,
The worthiness of Praise diftains his worth,
If that he prais'd himself, bring the Praise forth :
What the repining Enemy commends,
That breath Fame blows, that Praise tole pure transcends,

Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you your self, Æneas?
Æne. Ay, Greek, that is my Name.
Aga. What's

your Affair, I pray you?
Æne. Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's Ears.

Aga. He hears nought privately
That comes from Troy.

Æne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him,
I bring a Trumpet to awake his Ear,
To set his Senfe on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.

Aga. Speak frankly as the Wind,
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour;
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells hec fo himle!f.

Æne. Trumpet blow loud:
Send thy brass Voice thro' all these lazy Tents,

every Greek of Metele, let him know What Troy means fairly, thall be spoke aloud.

[The Trumpers found. We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy, A Prince calld Hečtor, Priam is his Father: Who in this dull and long continu'd Truce Is rusty grown, he bad me take a Trumpet, And to this purpose speak : Kings, Princes, Lords, Irih re be one amongst the fair'st of Greece, That holds his Honour higher than his Eafe, That seeks his P aise, more than he fears his Peril, Thac knows his Valour, and knows not his Fear, That loves his Mistress more than in Confellion,

(With truant Vows to her own Lips he loves)
And dare avow her Beauty and her Worth,
In other Arms than hers; to him this Challenge,
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a Lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his Arms,
And will to Morrow with his Trumpet call,
Midway between your Tents, and Walls of Troy,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in love.
If any come, Hector shall Honour him :
If nonc, he'll say in Troy.when he retires,
The Grecian Dames are Sur-burnt, and not worth
The splirter of a Lance; even so much.

Aga. This shall be told our Lovers, Lord Æneas,
If none of them ha:e Soul in such a kind,
We have left them all at home : But we are Soldiers;
And may that Soldier a meer Recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love;
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none, I'll be he.

Nest. Tell him of Neftor; one that was a Man
When Hector's Granfire fuckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mold,
One Nobleman, that hath one spark of Fire,
To answer for his Love; tell him from me,
I'll hide my Silver Beard in a Gold Beaver,
And in my Vartbrace put this wither'd brawn,
And meeting him, will tell him, that my Lady
Was fairer than his Grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the World; his Youth is flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of Blood.

Ane. Now Heav'ns forbid such scarcity of Youth,
Vlys. Amen.

Aga. Fair Lord Æneas,
Let me touch your Hand:
Toour Pavillion (hall I lead you first:
Achilles shall have word of this Intent,
So shall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent:
Your felf shall fealt with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a Noble Foe.



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