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Dio. This shall I undertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to bear.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus, in their Tent.
Ulys. Achilles stands i'th' entrance of his Tent;
Please it our General to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and Princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:
I will come last, 'tis like he'll question me,
Why such unplausive Eyes are bent? why turn'd on him?
If so, I have Decision medicinable,
To use between our Strangeness and his Pride,
Which his own Will shall have desire to drink;
It may do good: Pride hath no other Glass
To thew it felf, but Pride; for supple Knees
Fced Arrogance, and are the proud Man's Fees.
Aga. We'll execute your Purpose, and put on
A form of Strangeness as we pass along,
So do each Lord, and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more,
Then if not look'd on. I will lead the Way.
Achil. What, comes the General co fpeak with me?
You know my Mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.
Aga. What says Achilles, would he ought with us?
Neft. Would you, my Lord, ought with the General
Nest. Nothing, my Lord.
Aga. The better.
Åchil. Good Day, good Day,
Men, How do you? How do you?
• Achil. What, does the Cuckold scorn me?
Aja. How now, Patroclus?
Achil. Good Morrow, Ajax.
Achil. Good Morrow.
Aja. Ay, and good next Day too.
[Exeunt. Achil. What mean these Fellows? Know they not Achilless
Pair. They pass strangely: They were us’d to bend,
To send their Smiles before them to Achilles:
To come as humbly as they us’d to creep to Holy Altars.
Achil. What, am I poor of late?
'Tis certain, Greatness once falln out with Fortune,
Muft fall out with Men too: What the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the Eyes of others,
As feel in his own Fall: For Men, like Butter-Alies,
Shew not their mealy Wings, but to the Summer;
And not a Man, for being simple Man,
Hath any Honour, but honour'd by those Honours
That are without him; as Place, Riches, Favour,
Prizes of Accident, as oft as Merit :
Which when they fall (as being slippery ftanders)
The Love that lean'd on them as flippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Dye in the Fall: But 'tis not so with me,
Fortune and I are Friends, I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these Mens Looks, who do methinks find out
Something in me not worth that rich Beholding,
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses,
I'll interrupt his Reading: How now hes?
Ulf. Now, great Theris Son!
Achil. What, are you reading?
Vlyf. A strange Fellow here
Writes me, that Man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without, or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath;
Nor feels not what he ows, but by Refle&ion,
As when his Virtues shining upon others,
Heat them, and they retort that Heat again
To the first Giver.
Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses,
The Beauty that is born here in the Face,
The Bearer knows not, but commends it self,
Not going from it self, but Eye to Eye oppos'd,
Salute each other, with each others Form.
For Speculation turns not to it self,
'Till it hath travell'd, and is marry'd there
Where it may see it self; this is not strange at all.
Ulys. I do not strain at the Position,
It is familiar; but at the Author's drift;
Who in his Circumstance, expresly proves
That po Man is the Lord of any thing,
(Tyo' in and of him) there is much consisting,
'Till he communicate his Parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for ought,
'Till he behold them formed in th’Applause,
Where they're extended : Which like an Arch reverb'rates
The Voice again, or like a Gate of Steel,
Fronting the Sun, receives and renders.back
His Figure, and his Heat, I was much
I was much rapt in thi',
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.
Heavens! What a Man is there? A very Horse,
That as he knows not Nature, what chings are
Most abject in Regard, and dear in Use;
What things again most dear in the Elteem,
And poor in Worth: Now thall we see to Morrow,
An act that very Chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! O Heavens, what some Men do,
While some Men leave to do!
How some Men crecp in skittish Fortune's Hall,
Whiles others play the Idiots in her Eyes:
How one Man eats into another's Pride,
While Pride is feasting in his Wanroaness!
To see these Grecian Lords; why, even already,
They clap the Lubber Ajax on the Shoulder,
As if his Foot were on brave Hecte 'Breaft,
And great Troy shrinking.
Achil, I do believe it,
For they past by me, as Misers do by Beggars,
gave to me good word, nor good look : VVhat, are my Deeds forgot?
Ulys. Time hath, my Lord, a Wallet at his Back,
Wherein he purs Alms for Oblivion;
A great-fiz’d Monster of Ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good Deeds palt,
Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,
Forgot as soon as done: Perseverance, dear my Lord,
Keeps Honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty Male
In monumental Mock’ry: Take the instant way,
For Honour travels in a Straight fo narrow,
Where one but goes abreast, keep then the Path,
For Emulation hath a thousand So: s,
That one by one pursue; if you give Way
Or hedge aside from the dire&t forth-right,
Like to an entred Tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;
Or like a gallant Horse fall’n in first Rank,
Lye there for Pavement to the abject, near
O'er-run and tramplid on: Then what they do in presenç
Tho' less than yours in paft, must o'er-top yours:
For Time is like a fashionable Hoft,
That slightly shakes his parting Guest by th' Hard;
And with his Arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps in the Comer; the Welcome ever smiles,
And Farewel goes out sighing: 0 let not Virtue Seek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for Beauty, Wir,
High-birth, Vigor of Bone, Desert in Service,
Love, Friendship, Charity, are Subje&ts all
To envious and calumniating Time:
One touch of Nature makes the whole World Kin;
That all with one consent praise new-born Gauds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things past,
And go to Dust, that is, a little Gilt;
More Laud in Gilt o'er-dufted.
The present Eye, praises the present Object,
Then marvel not, thou great and compleat Man,
That all the Greeks begin to Worship Ajax;
Since things in motion 'gin to catch the Eye;
Then what not stirs ? the Cry went out on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thy self alive,
And case thy Reputation in thy Tent;
Whose glorious Deeds, but in these Fields of late,
Made emulous millions ’mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to Fa&ion.
Achil. Of this my Privacy,
I have strong Reasons.
Vlyf. But 'gainst your Privacy,
The Reasons are more potent and heroical :
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in Love
With one of Priam's Daughters.
Achil. Ha! known?
Ulys. Is that a wonder? The Providence that's in a watchful State, Knows almost every grain of Pluto's Gold; Finds bottom in th’uncomprehensive deep, Keeps place with thought; and, almost like the Gods, Does thoughts unveil in their dumb Cradles: There is a Mystery (with whom relation Durft never meddle) in the Soul of State; Which hath an Operation more divine, Than Breath or Pen can give expressure to: All the commerce that you have had with Tray, , As perfeâly is ours, as yours, my Lord. And better would it fit Achilles much, To throw down Hector, than Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When Fame shall in her Inand sound her Trump; And all the Greekish Girls shall tripping fing, Great HeEtor's Sister did Achilles win; But our great Ajax bravely bear down him. Farewel, my Lord, as your Lover, speak; The Fool Nides o'er the Ice that you should break.
Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you; A Woman, impudent, and mannish grown, Is not more loath'd than an effo minate Man, In time of Action: I stand condemn'd for this; They think my little ftomach to the War, your great love to '
me, restrains you thus :
Sweet, rouse your self; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your Neck unloose his amorous fold,
And like a dew-drop from ihe Lion's mane,
Be Mook to airy Air.
Achil, Shall Ajax fight with Hector!...-.
Pair. Ay, and perhaps receive much Honour by him,
Achil. I see my Reputation is at stake,
My Fame is threwdly gor'd.
Parr. O then beware :
Those wounds heal ill that Men do give themselves :
Omillion to do what is necessary,
Seals a Commission to a blank of Danger,
And Danger, like an Ague, subtly caints
Even then when we fit idly in the Sun,