Greatness, contemptible when it declines.

"Tis certain, greatnefs, once fall'n out with fortune, Muft fall out with men too: what the declined is, He fhall as foon read in the eyes of others,

As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,
Shew not their mealy wings but to the fummer;
And not a man, for being fimply man,

Hath honour, but is honour'd by those honours
That are without him; as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit;

Which, when they fall, (as being flipp'ry ftanders)
The love that lean'd on them, as flipp'ry too,
(5) Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall.

Honour, continued Acts neceffary to preserve its

Luftre.

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion.

(A great fiz'd monster of ingratitudes)

Thofe fcraps are good deeds paít, which are devour'd

As faft as they are made, forgot as foon

As done: perfeverance keeps honour bright:

To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like rufty mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a strait fo narrow,

Where one but goes abreast; keep then the path ;
For emulation hath a thousand fons,
That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by,

And

(5) Do.] This is commonly read doth; but fo, is not English. Which, in the 3d line preceding, is the nominative cafe, and plural: the reft fhould all be read as in a parenthefis. I find, the @xford editor is the only one that reads it properly.

And leave

you hindermoft; and there you lie,
Like to a gallant horfe fall'n in first rank,
For pavement to the abject rear, o'er-run
And trampled on: then what they do in prefent,
Tho' lefs than yours in past, muft o'er-top yours.
For time is like a fashionable hoft,

That flightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
But with his arms out-ftretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,

And farewel goes out fighing. O let not virtue feek
Remuneration for the thing it was;

For beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service,
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;
And give to duft, that is a little gilt,

More land than they will give to gold o'er dusted:
The prefent eye praises the present object.

SCENE VIII.

Love fhook off by a Soldier.

Sweet, roufe yourself; 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 to air.

SCENE VII. Therfites mimicking Ajax.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, afking for himself.

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 saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be!

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a ftride and a stand; ruminates like an hoftefs that hath no arithmetic but her brain to fet down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should fay, there were wit in his head, if 'twould out; and so 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 vain glory. He knows not me: I faid, good-morrow Ajax: and he replies, thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? he's grown a very land-fifh, language lefs, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both fides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambaffador to him, Therfites. Ther. Who, 1-why, he'll anfwer nobody; he profeffes not anfwering; fpeaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his prefence; let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus-tell him, I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent, and to procure fafe conduct for his perfon of the magnanimous and moft illuftrious, fix or feven times honour'd, captain, general, of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this. Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax!

Ther. Hum!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who moft humbly defires you to invite Hector

to his tent.

Ther. Hum

Patr. And to procure fafe conduct from Agamemnon.

Ther. Agamemnon!

Petr. Ay, my lord.

Ther

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What fay you to't?

Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart.
Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

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

ere he has me.

Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

Ther. Fare ye 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 mufic will be in him, when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not. But, I am fure, none; unless the fiddler Apolle get his finews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him strait. Ther. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature.

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

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an afs at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance.

ACT IV. SCENE II.

Lovers parting in the Morning.

[Exeunt.

Troil. (6) O Creffida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Creff Night hath been too brief.

Troil. Befhrew the witch with venomous wight the

ftays,

(6) Trail. &c.] Sce Romeo and Juliet, p. 260.

Tedious

Tedious as hell; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary fwift than thought.

Lover's Farewel

Injurious time, now with a robber's hafte,
Crams his rich thiev'ry up, he knows not how.
As many farewels as be ftars in heav'n,
With diftinct breath and confign'd kiffes to them,
He fumbles up all in one loose adieu;
And scants us with a fingle famish'd kiss ;
Distasted with the falt of broken tears.

Troilus's Character of the Grecian Youths,

The Grecian youths are full of fubtle qualities, They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature Flowing and fwelling o'er with arts and exercise; How novelties may move, and parts with perfonAlas! a kind of godly jealoufy

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous fin) Makes me afraid.

SCENE VIII. A Trumpeter.

Now crack thy lungs, and fplit thy brazen pipe; Blow, villain, till thy fphered-bias cheek

Out-fwell the cholic of puft Aquilon:

Come, stretch thy cheft, and let thy eyes pout blood; } Thou blow'ft for Hector.

Diomedes's Manner of walking.

"Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait: He rifes on his toe: that spirit of his In afpiration lifts him from the earth.

Defcription