And like a ftrutting Player, whofe Conceit Lies in his Ham-ftring, and doth think it rich To hear the wooden Dialogue and Sound 'Twixt his ftretch'd footing, and the Scaffoldage, (Such to-be-pitied, and o'er-refted feeming He acts thy Greatnefs in) and when he speaks, 'Tis like a Chime a mending; with terms unfquar'd; Which from the Tongue of roaring Typhon dropt, Would feem Hyperboles. At this fully ftuff The large Achilles, on his preft-bed lolling, From his deep Cheft, laughs out a loud Applaufe: Cries excellent!tis Agamemnon just. Now play me Neftor-hum, and stroke thy Beard As he, being dreft to fome Oration:
That's done; as near as the extreameft Ends Of Parallels; as like as Vulcan and his Wife: Yet good Achilles ftill cries, Excellent!
'Tis Neftor right! Now play him, me, Patroclus, Arming to anfwer in a Night-alarm-
And then, forfooth, the faint defects of Age Must be the Scene of Mirth, to cough and fpit, And with a Palfie fumbling on his Gorget, Shake in and out the Rivetand at this fport, Sir Valour dies; cries, O!-enough Patroclus Or, give me Ribs of Steel, I fhall split all In pleasure of my Spleen. And in this fashion All our Abilities, Gifts, Natures, Shapes, Severals and generals of Grace exact, Atchievements, Plots, Orders, Preventions, Excitements to the Field, or fpeech for Truce, Succefs or Lofs, what is, or is not, ferves As ftuff for thefe two, to make Paradoxes. Neft. And in the Imitation of these twai Who, as Ulyffes fays, Opinion crowns With an Imperial Voice, many are infect Ajax is grown felf-will'd, and bears his i In fuch a Rein, in full as proud a plac As broad Achilles, and keeps his Ter Makes factious Feafts, rai Bid as an Oracle, and A Save (whofe Gall
Aga. This Trojan fcorns us, or the Men of Troy
Are ceremonious Courtiers.
Æne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm❜d, As bending Angels; that's their Fame, in peace: But when they would feem Soldiers, they have Galls, Good Arms, ftrong Joints, true Swords, and Jove's accord, Nothing fo full of Heart. But peace, Æneas, Peace Trojan, lay thy Finger on thy Lips, The worthinefs of Praife diftains his worth,
If that he prais'd himfelf, bring the Praise forth:
What the repining Enemy commends,
That breath Fame blows, that Praise fole pure transcends, Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you your felf, Æneas?
Ane. Ay, Greek, that is my Name.
Aga. What's your Affair, I pray you?
Ane. Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's Ears. Aga. He hears nought privately
Ane. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him,
I bring a Trumpet to awake his Ear,
To fet his Senfe on the attentive bent, And then to speak.
Aga. Speak frankly as the Wind, It is not Agamemnon's fleeping hour; That thou halt know, Trojan, he is awake, He tells thec fo himself.
Anc. Trumpet blow loud:
Send thy brafs Voice thro' all thefe lazy Tents, And every Greek of Mettle, let him know What Troy means fairly, fhall be spoke aloud.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy, A Prince call'd Hector, Priam is his Father: Who in this dull and long continu'd Truce Is rufty grown, he bad me take a Trumpet, And to this purpofe fpeak: Kings, Princes, Lords, If th re be one among ft the fair'ft of Greece, That holds his Honour higher than his Eafe, That feeks his P aife, more than he fears his Peril, That knows his Valour, and knows not his Fear, That loves his Miftrefs more than in Confeffion,
(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 beft to do it. He hath a Lady, wifer, 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 fhall Honour him : If none, he'll fay in Troy when he retires, The Grecian Dames are Sun-burnt, and not worth The fplinter of a Lance; even fo much.
Aga. This fhall be told our Lovers, Lord Æneas, If none of them have Soul in fuch 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. Neft. 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 fpark of Fire, To anfwer for his Love; tell him from me, I'll hide my Silver 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 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 fuch scarcity of Youth, Vlyf. Amen.
Aga. Fair Lord Æneas,
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.
Manent Ulyffes and Neftor.
Neft. What fays Vlyffes?
Olyf. I have a young Conception in my Brain, Be you my time to bring it to fome íhape. Neft. What is't?
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?
Uly. This Challenge that the valiant Hector fends, However it is fpread in general Name,
Relates in purpofe only to Achilles.
Neft. The purpofe is perfpicuous even as Substance, Whofe groffnefs little Characters fum up, And in the publication make no ftrain: But that Achilles, were his Brain as barren As Banks of Lybia, tho', Apollo knows, 'Tis dry enough, will with great fpeed of Judgment, Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose Pointing on him.
Vlyf. And wake him to the Anfwer, think you? Neft. Yes, 'tis moft meet; whom may you elle oppofe That can from Hector bring his Honour off, If not Achilles? Though't be a fportful Combat, Yet in this Trial much Opinion dwells. For here the Trojans tafte our dear'ft repute With their fin't Palate: And truft to me, Ulyffes, Our imputation fhall be odly poiz'd
In this wild Action. For the fuccefs, Although particular, fhall have 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-mass Of things to come at large. It is fuppos'd, He that meets Hector, iflues from our choice; And choice being mutual act of all our Souls,
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