Cef. [within.] Cry, Trojans ! Heat. It is Caffandra. Enter Caffandra, raving. Caf. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. Helt. Peace, fifter, peace. Caf. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled elders, Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit. Het. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high ftrains Of divination in our fifter work Some touches of remorfe? Or is your blood Troi. Why, brother Hector, 2 We may not think the juftnefs of each act 2 diftafie Corrupt; change to a worfe ftate. JoHNs. Par. Par. Elfe might the world convince of levity Pri. Paris, you speak Like one befotted on your fweet delights: Par. Sir, I propofe not merely to myself On terms of base compulfion? can it be, Should once fet footing in your generous bofoms? Het. Paris and Troilus, you have both faid well; And on the cause and question now in hand Have gloz'd, but fuperficially; not much Unlike young men, whom Ariftotle thought The reafons you alledge do more conduce 'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge All dues be render'd to their owners; now If this law But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion 5 Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless, My fprightly brethren, I propend to you In refolution to keep Helen ftill; For 'tis a caufe that hath no mean dependance Troi. Why, there you touch'd the life of our defign: Were it not glory that we more affected 3 benummed wills,-] That is, inflexible, immoveable, no longer obedient to fuperior direction. JOHNSON. 4 There is a lar] What the law does in every nation between individuals, juftice ought to do between nations. JOHNSON. Is this in way of truth;-] Though confidering truth and juftice in this question, this is my opinion; yet as a question of honour, I think on it as you. JOHNSON. Than 6 Than the performance of our heaving fpleens, Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, A fpur to valiant and magnanimous deeds; Het. I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. SCENE III, Achilles' tent. Enter Therfites. [Exeunt. How now, Therfites? what, loft in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him. O worthy fatisfaction! 'would it were otherwife, that I could beat him, whilft he rail'd at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll fee fome iffue of my fpiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou 6 the performance of our heaving spleens,] The execution of fpite and refentment. JOHNSON. 7 — emulation—] That is, envy, factious contention. JонNS, great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art love the king of gods; and, Mercury, lofe all the ferpentine craft of thy Caduceus; if thou take, not that little, little, lefs-than-little wit from them that they have! which fhort-arm'd ignorance itfelf knows is fo abundant fcarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a fpider, 8 without drawing the maffy iron and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather the 9 boneache! for that, methinks, is the curfe dependant on thofe that war for a placket. I have faid my prayers, and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my lord Achilles ! Enter Patroclus. Patr. Who's there? Therfites? Good Therfites, come in and rail. Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt counterfeit, thou couldst not have flipp'd out of my contemplation: but it is no matter, Thyfelf upon thyfelf! The common curfe of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and difcipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction 'till thy death, then if she, that lays thee out, fays-thou art a fair corfe, I'll be fworn and fworn upon't, fhe never fhrowded any but Lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? Patr. What, art thou devout? waft thou in prayer? Ther. Ay; the heavens hear me ! Enter Achilles. Achil. Who's there? Patr. Therfites, my lord. Savithout drawing the maffy irons-] That is, without drawing their fewords to cut the web. They ufe no means but thofe of violence. JOHNSON. 9 -the bone-ache!] In the quarto, the Neapolitan boneache. JOHNSON. |