While fome men leave to do!

How fome men creep in skittish Fortune's Hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes;
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feafting in his wantonness!
To fee these Grecian lords! why ev'n already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breaft,
And great Troy fhrinking.

Achil. This I do believe;

For they paffed by me, as mifers do by beggars,
Neither gave to me good word, nor good look:
What! are my deeds forgot?

Uly. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion:

(A great-fiz'd monster of Ingratitudes)

Thole fcraps are good deeds paft, which are devour'd
As faft as they are made, forgot as foon

As done: Perfeverance keeps Honour bright:
To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rufty Mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a ftreight so narrow,
Where one but goes abreaft; keep then the path;
For Emulation hath a thousand fons,

That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or turn afide from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindermoft; and there you lye,
Like to a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
For pavement to the abject near, o'er-run
And trampled on: Then what they do in prefent,
Tho' lefs than yours in paft, muft o'er top yours.
For time is like a fashionable Hoft,

That flightly shakes his parting Gueft by th' hand;
But with his arms out-ftretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer; Welcome ever fmiles,

And Farewell goes out fighing. O, let not virtue feek
Remuneration for the thing it was;

For beauty, wit, high birth, defert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are fubjects all

To

To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all, with one confent, praise new-born Gawds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things paft;
And give to duft, that is a little gilt (29)
More laud than they will give to Gold o'er-dufted:
The present eye praifes the prefent object.
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion fooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The Cry went once for thee,
And ftill it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thy felf alive,
And cafe thy reputation in thy Tent;

Whofe glorious deeds, but in thefe fields of late,
Made emulous miffions 'mongst the Gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil. Of my privacy

I have ftrong reasons.

Ulyf. 'Gainft

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!

Uly. Is that a wonder?

The providence, that's in a watchful State,
Knows almost every grain of Pluto's Gold;
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehenfive Deep;

Keeps place with thought; and almoft, like the Gods,
Does ev❜n our thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles :
There is a mystery (with which relation

Durft never meddle) in the Soul of State;
Which hath an operation more divine,

(29) And go to duft, that is a little gilt,

More Laud than Gilt o'er-dufted.] In this mangled Condition do we find this truly fine Obfervation transmitted in the old Folio's. Mr. Pope faw it was corrupt, and therefore, as I prefume, threw it out of the i ext; because he would not indulge his private Senfe in attempting to make Senie of it. I owe the Foundation of the Amendment, which I have given to the Text, to the Sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby.

Than breath, or pen, can give expreffure to.
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly 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 fhall in his ifland found her trump;
And all the Greekeft girls fhall tripping fing,
Great Hector's fifter did Achilles win;
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewel, my lord-I, as your lover, speak;
The fool flides o'er the ice, that you should break.
[Exit.
Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you;
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of act.-I ftand condemn'd for this;
They think, my little ftomach to the war,
And your great love to me, reftrains you thus:
Sweet, roufe your felf; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his am'rous fold;
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,

Be fhook to air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector! —

Patr. Ay, and, perhaps, receive much honour by him. Achil. I fee, my reputation is at stake;

My fame is fhrewdly gor'd.

Patr. O then beware:

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves :
Omiffion to do what is neceffary

Seals a Commiffion to a Blank of Danger;

And danger, like an ague, fubtly taints

Even then, when we fit idly in the Sun.

Achil. Go call Therfites hither, fweet Patroclus:

I'll fend the fool to Ajax, and defire him

T'invite the Trojan lords, after the Combat,

To fee us here unarm'd: I have a woman's Longing,
An appetite that I am fick withal,

peace;

To fee great Hector in the Weeds of
To talk with him, and to behold his vifage,

Ev'n

Ev'n to my full of view.-A labour fav'd!

Ther. A wonder!

Acbil. What?

Enter Therfites.

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.

Achil. How fo?

Ther. He must fight fingly to morrow with Hector, and is fo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Acbil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride and a stand; ruminates like an hoftefs, that hath no arithmetick but her brain, to fet down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politick regard, as who should say, there were wit in his head, if 'twou'd out; and fo there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not fhew without knocking. The man's undone for ever for if Hector break not his neck i'th' combat, he'll break't himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I faid, good morrow, Ajax: And he replies, thanks, Agamem non. What think you of this man, that takes me for the General? he's grown a very land-fifh, language-less, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both fides, like a leather Jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambaffador to him, Therfites.

Ther. Who I? why, he'll answer no body; he profeffes not answering; fpeaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his prefence; let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall fee the Pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus tell him, I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent, and to procure fafe Conduct for his Perfon of the magnanimous and moft illuftrious, fix or seven times honour'd captain general, of the Gre cian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.

Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax !

Ther.

Ther. Hum

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his Tent.

Ther. Hum

Patr. And to procure fafe Conduct from Agamemnon. Ther. Agamemnon!

Patr. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What fay you to't?

Ther. God be wi'you, with all my heart.

Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

Ther. If to morrow be a fair day, by eleven o' clock it will go one way or other; howfoever, he fhall pay for me ere he has me.

Patr. Your answer, Sir.

Ther. Fare ye well with all my heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus; what mufick will be in him, when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not. But, I am fure, none; unless the fidler Apollo get his finews to make Catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou fhall bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me carry another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain ftirr'd, And I my felf fee not the bottom of it.

[Exit.

Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an afs at it! I had rather be a tick in a fheep, than fuch a valiant ignorance.

[Exe.

ACT