Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion.
A great fiz'd monfter, of ingratitudes,

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

As done: (7) Perfeverance keeps Honour bright:
To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rusty nail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a ftreight fo 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 hedge afide from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindermoft; (8) and there you lie,
Like to a gallant horfe fall'n in firft rank,

For pavement (9) to the abject rear, (1) o'er-run
And trampled on: Then what they do in prefent,
Tho' less than yours in paft, muft o'er-top yours.
For Time is like a fashionable host,

That flightly fhakes his parting gueft by th' hand;
But with his arms out-ftretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer. For Welcome ever fmiles,
And Farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue

feek

Remuneration for the thing it was;

printed in all the modern editions with such deviations from the old copy, as exceed the lawful power of an editor.

(7) In the old copy,

Perfeverance, dear my Lord,

Keeps Honour bright: To have done, is to hang

Quite out of fabion, like a rusty nail

In monumental mockery. Take the inftant way,

For bonour, &c.

(8)-and there you lie,] Thefe words are not in the folio. (9) -to the abject rear,-] So Hanmer. All the editors before him read,

-to the abject, near.

(1) o'er-run, &c.] The quarto wholly omits the fimile of the horfe, and reads thus:

And leave you hindmoft, then what they do in prefent.

The folio feems to have fome omifon, for the fimile begins,
Or like a gallant herfe-

For

(2) For beauty, wit, high birth, defert in fervice,
Love, friendship, charity, are fubjects all
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;
(3) And fhew to duft, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dufted.

The prefent eye praises the present object;
'Then marvel not, thou great and compleat man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion fooner catch the eye,
Than what not ftirs. The Cry went once for thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,

If thou wouldst not entomb thyfelf alive,
And cafe thy reputation in thy tent;

Whofe glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
(4) Made emulous miffions 'mongst the Gods them-
felves,

And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil. Of this my privacy.

(2) For beauty, wit, &c.] The folio and quarto,

-For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bane, defert in fervice,

Love, charity

I do not deny but the changes produce a more eafy lapfe of num bers, but they do not exhibit the work of Shakespeare. (3) And go to duft, that is a little gilt,

More laud than gilt o'er-dufted.] In this mingled condition do we find this truly fine obfervation tranfmitted in the old folio's. Mr. Pope faw it was corrupt, and therefore, as I prefume, threw it out of the text; becaufe he would not indulge his private fenfe in attempting to make sense of it. I owe the foundation of the amendment, which I have given to the text, to the fagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby, I read,

And give to duft, that is a little gilt,

More laud than they will give to gold o'er dufted.

THEO.

This emendation has been received by the fucceeding editors,

but recedes too far from the copy.

(4) Made emulous miffions] Miffions, for divifions, i. e. goings out, on one fide and the other.

WARB.

The meaning of miffion feems to be dispatches of the gods from beaven, about mortal bufinefs, fuch as often happened at the fiege of Troy,

I have

I have ftrong reasons.

Uly. '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,
(5) Knows almoft every grain of Pluto's Gold;
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehenfive deep;

(6) Keeps place with thought; and almoft, like the Gods,

Does ev'n thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery, (7) with which relation
Durft never meddle, in the Soul of State;
Which hath an operation more divine,
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 muft grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When Fame fhall in our islands found her trump;
And all the Greekish 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

fhould break.

[Exit.

(5) Knows almoft, &c.] For this elegant line the quarto has

enly,

Knows almost every thing.

(6) Keeps place with thought;

-] i. e. there is in the providence of a state, as in the providence of the univerfe, a kind of ubiquity. The expreffion is exquifitely fine. Yet the Oxford Editor alters it to keeps pace, and fo deftroys all its beauty.

(7)with which relation

WARB.

Durft never meddle,] There is a fecret administration of affairs, which no history was ever able to discover.

VOL. IX.

U

SCENE

SCENE VIII.

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 yourfelf; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloofe his am'rous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be fhook (8) 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:

Thofe wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves. (9) Omiffion to do what is neceffary

Seals a Commiffion to a Blank of Danger, he
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

ave a woman's Longing,
An appetite that I am fick withal,
To fee great Hector in the Weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his vifage,
Ev'n to my full of view.- A labour fav'd!

(8)

to air.] So the quarto. The folio,

--to airy air

(9) Omiffion to do, &c.] By neglecting our duty we commission or enable that danger of difhonour, which could not reach us before, to lay hold upon us.

SCENE

SCENE IX.

Enter Therfites.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

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

himfelf.

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 faying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he ftalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride and a ftand; ruminates like an hoftefs, that hath no arithmetick but her brain, to fet down her reckoning; bites his lip (1) with a politick regard, as who should say, there were wit in this 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 vainglory. He knows not me. I faid, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think of this man, you that takes me for the General? He's grown a very land-fifh, language-lefs, a monfter. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both fides, like a leather Jerkin.:

Achil. Thou must be my ambaffador to him, Ther. fites.l

Ther. Who, I?-why, he'll anfwer no body; he profeffes not anfwering; fpeaking is for beggars. He wears his tongue in's 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, tó invite the most valorous

(1) with a politick regard,] With a fly link.

U 2

He&tor