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Agamemnon and the rest of the Greeks come forward.
Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
Hect. The worthieft of them, tell me name by name;
But for Achilles, mine own fearching Eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly fize.

Aga. Worthy of Arms; as welcome as to one
That would be rid of fuch an Enemy.

But that's no welcome: Underftand more clear,
What's paft, and what's to come, is ftrew'd with husks
And formless ruin of Oblivion:

But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias drawing,
Bids thee with moft divine Integrity,

From Heart of very Heart, great Hector, welcome.
Hect. I thank thee, moft Imperious Agamemnon. [To Troi.
Aga. My well fam'd Lord of Troy, no lefs to you.
Men. Let me confirm my Princely Brother's Greeting,
You brace of warlike Brothers, welcome hither.
Hect. Whom muft we answer?

Ane. The Noble Menelaus.

Hect. Oyou my Lord---by Mars his Gauntlet, thanks, Mock not, that I affect th' untraded Oath,

Your quandom Wife fwears still by Venus Glove,

She's well, but bad me not commend her to you.

Men. Name her not now, Sir, fhe's a deadly Theme.
Hect. O pardon-I offend.

Neft. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft
Labouring for Destiny, make cruel way

Through ranks of Greekish Youth; and I have seen thee,
As hot as Perfeus, fpur thy Phrygian Steed,

And feen thee fcouring Forfeits and Subduements,
When thou haft hung thy advanc'd Sword i'th' Air,
Not letting it decline on the declined:
That I have faid unto my Standers-by,
Lo, Jupiter is yonder dealing Life.

And I have feen thee paufe, and take thy Breath,
When that a Ring of Greeks have hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling. Thus I. have feen,
But this thy Countenance, ftill stock'd in Steel,
I never faw 'till now. I knew thy Grandfire,
And once fought with him; he was a Soldier good,

But

But by great Mars, the Captain of us all,
Never like thee. Let an old Man embrace thee,
And, worthy Warrior, welcome to our Tents.
Ene. 'Tis the old Neftor.

Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old Chronicle,
That haft fo long walk'd Hand in Hand with time:
Moft reverend Nefter, I am glad to clafp thee.

Neft. I would my Arms could match thee in Contention, As they contend with thee in Courtefie.

Helt. I would they could.

Neft. Ha? by this white Beard I'd fight with thee to Morrow. Well, welcome, welcome; I have feen the time--Ulys. I wonder now how yonder City ftands, When we have here the Base and Pillar by us. Het. I know your favour, Lord Vlyffes, well. Ah, Sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since firft I faw your felf and Diomede In Ilion, on your Greekish Embaffie.

Vlyf. Sir, I foretold you then what would enfue,
My Prophefie is but half his Journey yet,

For yonder Walls that partly front your Town;
Yond Towers, whofe wanton tops do bufs the Clouds,
Muft kifs their own Feet.

Helt. I must not believe you:

There they stand yet; and modeftly I think,
The fall of every Phrygian Stone will coft
A drop of Grecian Blood; the end crowns all,
And that old common Arbitrator, Time,
Will one Day end it.

Vlyf. So to him we leave it.

Moft gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome;
After the General, I befeech you next
To feaft with me, and fee me at my Tent.
Achil. I fhall foreftal thee, Lord Vlyffes, thou:
Now Hector, I have fed mine Eyes on thee,
I have with exa& view perus'd thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.

Heat. Is this Achilles?

Achill. I am Achilles.

Helt. Stand fair, I prithee, let me look on thee.
Achil. Behold thy fill.

Helt.

Hect. Nay, I have done already.

Achil. Thou art too brief, I will the fecond time, As I would buy thee, view thee, limb by limb.

Hect. O, like a Book of Sport thou'lt read me o'er: But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Why doft thou fo opprefs me with thine Eye?

Achil. Tell me, you Heavens, in which part of his Body Shall I destroy him? Whether there, or there, or there, That I may give the local Wound a name,

And make diftin&t the very breach, where-out
Hector's great Spirit flew. Anfwer me, Heavens.
Hect. It would difcredit the bleft Gods, proud Man,
To answer fuch a Question: Stand again,
Think'ft thou to catch my Life fo pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice Conjecture,
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

Achil. I tell thee, yea.

Hect. Wert thou the Oracle to tell me fo,
I'd not believe thee: Henceforth guard thee well,
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there,
But by the Forge that ftythied Mars his Helm,
I'll kill thee every where, yea o'er and o'er.
You wifeft Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His Infolence draws folly from my Lips,
But I'll endeavour Deeds to match thefe Words,
Or may I never-

Ajax. Do not chafe thee, Cousin ;
And you, Achilles, let thefe Threats alone
'Till accident or purpose bring you to't.
You may have ev'ry day enough of Hector,
If you have Stomach. The general State, I fear,
Can fcarce intreat you to be odd with him.

Helt. I pray you, let us fee you in the Field,
We have had pelting Wars fince you refus'd
The Grecian's Caufe.

Achil. Doft thou intreat me, Hector? To Morrow do I meet thee, fell as Death,

To Night, all Friends.

Helt. Thy Hand upon that match.

Aga. Firft, all you Peers of Greece go to my Tent, There in the full convive you; afterwards,

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The fall of every
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Vlyf. So to him
Moft gentle, and r
After the General, :
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1

Why, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.
who keeps the Tent now?

The Surgeon's Box, or the Patient's Wound.

Well faid, Adverfity; and what need these Tricks? Prithee be filent, Boy, I profit not by thy talk, thought to be Achilles's Male-Varlet.

Male-Varlet, you Rogue? What's that?

Why, his mafculine Whore. Now the rotten Difthe South, Guts-griping, Ruptures, Catarrhs, loads ! i'th' Backs, Lethargies, cold Palfies, and the like, take again fuch prepofterous Discoveries.

Why, thou damnable Box of Envy, thou, what hou to Curfe thus ?

--. Do I Curfe thee?

. Why no, you ruinous Butt, you whorefon indihable Cur.

The No? Why art thou then exafperate, thou idle im- Skein of fley'd Silk; thou green Sarcenet flap for a Eve; thou Taffel of a Prodigal's Purse, thou? Ah, the poor World is peftred with fuch Water-flies, dimives of Nature.

PRIT. Out Gall!

her. Finch Egg!

- My fwect Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
-om my great purpose in to morrow's Battel:
ere is a Letter from Queen Hecuba,

Token from her Daughter, my fair Love, --oth taxing me, and gaging me to keep

an Oath that I have fworn. I will not break it,
rail Greek, fail Fame, Honour, or go, or stay,
vy major Vow lyes here; this I'll obey :
Lome, come, Therfites, help to trim my Tent,
As Night in Banqueting muft all be spent.
Away, Patroclus,

[Exit.

Ther. With too much Blood, and too little Brain, these two may run mad: But if with too much Brain, and too ttle Blood, they do, I'll be a Curer of Mad-men. Here's amemnon, an honeft Fellow enough, and one that loves Quails, but he has not fo much Brain as Ear-wax; and the good Transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, e primitive Statue, and oblique Memorial of Cuckolds,

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