Nest. [Aside.] He's not yet thorough warm; force him with praises :

23

Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.

Ulys. [To AGAMEM.] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

Nest. Our noble general, do not do so.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm Here is a man - but 'tis before his face;

I will be silent.

Nest.

Wherefore should you so?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us!

'Would he were a Trojan!

Nest. What a vice were it in Ajax now,

Ulys. If he were proud.

Dio. Or covetous of praise.

Ulys. Ay, or surly borne.

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected.

Ulys. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet

composure;

Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck : Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature

Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition;

But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,

Let Mars divide eternity in twain,

And give him half: and, for thy vigour, let

Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield"

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,

23 Force him, that is, stuff him: farcir, Fr. In another place

of this play we have "malice forced with wit."

24 That is, yield his titles, his celebrity for strength.

Which, like a bourn,25 a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor;
Instructed by the antiquary times,

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise;

But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,

But be as Ajax.

Ajax.

Shall I call you father?

Ulys. Ay, my good son.

Dio.

26

Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulys. There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles
Please it our great general

Keeps thicket.

To call together all his state of war:

Fresh kings are come to Troy; to-morrow,

We must with all our main of power stand fast :
And here's a lord, come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Aga. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw
[Exeunt.

deep.

25 A bourn is a boundary, and sometimes a rivulet, dividing one place from another. A bourn, or burn, in the north, signifies a brook, or rivulet. Hence the names of many villages, &c., ter ninate in burn.

26 We concur with Knight and Verplanck in giving this speech to Ulysses, as it is in the folio. All other modern editors follow the quarto in giving it to Nestor, which seems to take away much of its point, this being to show how Ulysses' praise works in Ajax. Ben Jonson had many who called themselves his sons. Cotton dedicates his book on Angling to his father Walton; and Ashmole, in his Diary observes, "April 3, Mr. William Backhouse of Swallowfield, Berks, caused me to call him father thenceforward." Such adoptions were quite customary in the Poet's time, and re garded as high compliments on both sides

H.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Troy. A Room in PRIAM's Palace. Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.

Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not you follow the young lord Paris?

Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me
Pan. You depend upon him, I mean?

Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman •

I must needs praise him.

Serv. The Lord be praised!

Pan. You know me, do you not?

Serv. 'Faith, sir, superficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better: I am the lord Pandarus.

Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better.' Pan. I do desire it.

Serv. You are in the state of grace.

[Music within. Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. What music is this?

Serv. I do but partly know, sir: it is music in

parts.

Pan. Know you the musicians ?

Serv. Wholly, sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

1 The servant means to quibble. He hopes Pandarus will be come a better man than he is at present. In his next speech he chooses to understand Pandarus as if he had said he wished to grow better; and hence the servant affirms that he is in the state grace.

of

Serv. To the hearers, sir.

Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?

Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Serv. Who shall I command, sir?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; 1 am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whose request do these men play?

Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir: Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul.

Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ?

Serv. No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her attributes ?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. Serv. Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase, indeed.

Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.

Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen; fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen.Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Par. You have broke it, cousin; and, by my life, you shall make it whole again: you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance.- Nell, he is full of harmony.

Pan. Truly, lady, no.

Helen. O, sir!

Pan. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. Par. Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits.2

Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly.

Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: My dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus

Helen. My lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to:-commends himself most affectionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody if you do, our melancholy upon your head! Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i'faith,

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la! Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. -And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper you will make his excuse.

Pan. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?

Par. What exploit's in hand? where sups he tonight?

Helen. Nay, but my lord,

Pan. What says my sweet queen? - My cousin

or tune.

A quibble is intended. A fit was a part or division of a song The equivoque lies between fits, starts, or sudden im pulses, and fits in its musical acceptation.