Difgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her poffeffion up,

On terms of base compulfion? Can it be,
That fo degenerate a strain as this,

Should once fet footing in your generous bofoms?
There's not the meaneft spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended; nor none so noble,
Whofe life were ill beftow'd, or death unfam'd',
Where Helen is the fubject: then, I fay,
Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both faid well i And on the cause and question now in hand

Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much

Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy:

The reasons, you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot paffion of diftemper'd blood,
Than to make up a free determination

'Twixt right and wrong; For pleasure, and revenge,

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decifion. Nature craves,

All dues be render'd to their owners; Now
What nearer debt in all humanity,
Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection;
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, refift the fame;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
To curb those raging appetites that are
Moft difobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king,—
As it is known fhe is,-these moral laws

Of

Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud

To have her back return'd: Thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,

But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,

My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In refolution to keep Helen ftill;

For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance

Upon our joint and several dignities.

Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: Were it not glory that we more affected

Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown;
A fpur to valiant and magnanimous deeds;
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us :
For, I prefume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As fmiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.

He&t.

I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.—
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits :
I was advértis'd, their great general slept,
Whilft emulation in the army crept;
This, I prefume, will wake him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

D 3

SCENE III.

The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent.

Enter THERSITES.

Ther. How now, Therfites? what, loft in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy fatisfaction! 'would, it were otherwife; that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me? 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll fee fome iffue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles,-a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will ftand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the ferpentine craft of thy Caduceus; if ye take not that little little lefs-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm'd ignorance itfelf knows is fo abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their maffy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curfe dependant on thofe that war for a placket. I have faid my prayers; and devil, envy, fay Amen. What, ho! my lord Achilles !

Enter PATROCLUS.

Patr. Who's there? Therfites? Good Therfites, come in and rail.

Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt counterfeit, thou would'st not have slipp'd out of my contemplation : but it is no matter; Thyfelf upon thyfelf! The common

curfe

curfe of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she, that lays thee out, fays-thou art a fair corfe, I'll be sworn and fworn upon't, she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? Patr. What, art thou devout? waft thou in prayer? Ther. Ay; The heavens hear me !

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Who's there?

Patr. Therfites, my lord.

Achil. Where, where ?-Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why haft thou not ferv'd thyself in to my table fo many meals? Come; what's Agamemnon? Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ;-Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles?

Patr. Thy lord, Therfites; Then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?

Patr. Thou may'ft tell, that know'ft.

Achil. O, tell, tell.

Ther. I'll decline the whole queftion. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool.

Patr. You rafcal!

Ther. Peace, fool; I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd man.-Proceed, Therfites. Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Therfites is a fool; and, as aforefaid, Patroclus is a fool. Achil. Derive this; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achil

les; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Therfites is a fool, to serve fuch a fool; and Patroclus is a fool pofitive.

Patr. Why am I a fool?

Ther. Make that demand of the prover.-It fuffices me, Look you, who comes here?

thou art.

Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and AJAX.

Achil. Patroclus, I'll fpeak with nobody:-Come in with me, Therfites.

[Exit.

Ther. Here is fuch patchery, fuch juggling, and such knavery! all the argument is, a cuckold, and a whore; A good quarrel, to draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon. Now the dry ferpigo on the fubject! and war, and lechery, confound all! [Exit.

Agam. Where is Achilles?

Patr. Within his tent; but ill-difpos'd, my lord. Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are here. He fhent our messengers; and we lay by

Our appertainments, visiting of him :

Let him be told fo; left, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.

Patr.
I fhall fay fo to him.
Uly. We faw him at the opening of his tent;
He is not fick.

[Exit.

Ajax. Yes, lion-fick, fick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: But why, why? let him show us a caufe. -A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON afide.

Neft. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Uly. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Neft.