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And with his arms out-stretch’d, as he would fly,
Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all with one consent, praise new-born gawds, **
Though they are made and moulded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object.

Sweet, rouse yourself: and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

Ther. A wonder!
Achil. What?

[himself. Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for Achil. How so?

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

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like a hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i’ the combat, he'll break it himself in vainglory. He knows not me; I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think

* New-fashioned toys.


you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his pres ence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. fo him, Patroclus: Tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.
Ther. Humph!
Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,-
Ther. Ha!
Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite
Hector to his tent!

Ther. Humph!
Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamem-
Ther. Agamemnon?
Patr. Ay, my lord.
Ther. Ha!
Patr. What say you to't?
Ther. God be wir

you, with all


heart. Patr. Your answer, sir.

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

Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. Fare you 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 music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his


brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get nis sinews to make eatlings* on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear à letter to him

straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capablet creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant igno




she stays,

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribaldt crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. Cres.

Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights As tediously as hell: but flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary swift than thought.

A LOVER'S FAREWELL. Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath, and consign'dş kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu; And scants us with a single famish'd kiss: Distasted with the salt of broken || tears. TROILUS'S CHARACTER OF THE GRECJAN YOUTHS. The Grecian youths are full of quality; * Lute-strings made of Catgut. + Intelligent,

Lewd, noisy. & Sealed.

|| Interrupted. Highly accomplished

They're loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature

flowing, And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy (Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) Makes me afeard.

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon:
Come, stret. b thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood:
Thou blow'st for Hector.

Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks: her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive* of her body.
0, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every ticklish reader! set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game.


The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; Not yet mature, yet matchless: firm of word; Speaking in deeds, and deedlesst in his tonguez Not soon provok’d, nor, being provok'd soon calm’d: His heart and hand both open, and both free; For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impairf thought with breath Manly as Hector, but more dangerous: : For Hector, in his bļaze of wrath, subscribes * Motion.

+ No boaster. # Unsuitable to his character § Yields, gives way.

To tender objects; but he, in heat of action,
Is more vindicative than jealous love.


I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way, [thee, Through ranks of Greekish youth: and I have seen As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, Despising many forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword is the air, Not letting it decline on the declin'd;* That I have said to some my standers-by, Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life! And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, When that a ring of Greeks have hemm’d thee in, Like an Olympian wrestling.

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Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? whether there, there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name; And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector's great spirit flew: Answer me, heavens!


The gods are deaf to hot and peevisht vows,
They are polluted offerings, more abhorrd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate:
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious-dears than life.

For the love of all the gods,
Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother;
And when we have our armours buckled on,
The venom’d vengeance ride upon our swords.
* Fallen.

+ Foolish. † Valuable.

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