For time is like a fashionable host, That flightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand; And farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue seek For beauty, wit, high birth, defert in service, One touch of nature makes the whole world kin; If thou would'it not entomb thy felf alive, And cafe thy reputation in thy tent; Whofe glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, Achil. Of my privacy I have ftrong reasons. Ulf. '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! (16) And go to duft, that is a little gilt, More Laud than Gilt o'er-dufted.] In this mangled Condition do we find this truly fine Observation transmitted, in the old Folio's. Mr. Pope faw it was corrupt, and therefore, as 1 prefume, threw it out of the Text; because he would not indulge bis private Senfe in attempting to make Sense of it. I owe the Foundation of the Amendment, which I have given to the Text, to the Sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Ulyf Uly. Is that a wonder? 'The providence, that's in a watchful State, But it muft grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, But our great Ajax bravely beat down him. The fool flides o'er the ice, that you should break. [Exit: Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man Be fhook 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: Omiffion to do what is necessary I Seals a Commiffion to a Blank of Danger; Even then, when we fit idly in the Sun. Achil. Go call Therfites hither, fweet Patroclus: To fee us here unarm'd: I have a woman's Longing, To fee great Hector in the Weeds of peace; Ther. A wonder! Achil. What ? A labour fav'd! Enter Therfites. Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself. Achil. How fo? Ther. He muft fight fingly to morrow with Hector, and is fo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgeling, that he raves in faying nothing. Achil. How can that be! Ther. Why, he talks up and down like a peacock, a fride and a stand; ruminates like an hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain, to fet down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politick regard, as who should say, there were wit in his head, if 'twould 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 vain glory. He knows not me: I faid, good morrow, Ajax: And he replies, thanks, Agamem non. What think you of this man, that takes me for the General? he's grown a very land fish, language-less, 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, Therfites. Ther. Who, I?-why, he'll answer no body; he profeffes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his prefence; let Pa troclus make his demands to me, you shall fee the Pageant of Ajax. Achil.. Achil. To him, Patroclustell 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 most illuftrious, fix or seven 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. Patr. Who moft humbly defires you to invite Hector to his Tent. Ther. Hum. Patr. And to procure fafe Conduct from Agamemnon. Patr. Ay, my lord. Ther. Ha! Patr. What fay you to't? Ther. God be wi'you, with all my heart. Patr. Your answer, Sir. Ther. If to morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he fhall 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 mufick will be in him, when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not. But, I am fure, none; unless the fidler Apollo get his finews to make Catlings on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me carry another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature. Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd, And I my felf fee not the bottom of it. [Exit. 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 fheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [Exe. ACT SCENE, a Street in TROY. Enter at one door Æneas, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomede; Gre cians, with Torches. PARIS. EE, ho! who is that there? SE Ene. Is the Prince there in perfon? Had I fo good occafion to lie long, As you, Prince Paris, nought but heav'nly bufinefs Dio. That's my mind too : good morrow, lord Æneas. Ene. Health to you, valiant Sir, Dio. The one and th'other Diomede embraces. By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life, With all my force, purfuit and policy. Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion that will flie (17) (17) And thou shalt bunt a Lion that will fly With With his Face back in humane gentleness.] Thus Mr. Pope in his great Sagacity pointed this Paffage in his firft Edition, not deviating from the Error of the old Copies. What Conception he had to himself of a Lion flying in humane Gentleness, I won't pretend to affirm: I fuppofe, he had the Idea of as gently as e Lamb, or as what our Vulgar call an Essex Lion, a Calf. If any other |