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these two may run mad: but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, (44) but he hath not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there his brother, the bull, (the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds ;) (45) a thrifty shcoing horn in a chain,

(41) And one that loves quails,} This I take to be an obscure passage, not very commonly understood, and therefore may deferve a note of explanation. Thersites is every where fcurrilous and scandalous in his observations upon the Greeks. He abuses Menelaus for a stupid cuckold; and with the same freedom, I apprehend, here he is charging Agamemnon with being a wencher, in saying, he is a lover of quails. But what consonance, may it not be asked, is there between quails and a mistrefs? Rabelais, in his prologue to his fourth book, speaks of cailles coiphées mignonnement chantans; which Motteux i find has translated coated quails, and lared mutton, waggishlv finging.

(Of laced mutton I have already spoken in my third note on the Two Gentlemen of Verona:) and Corgrave, in his French Dictionary, seems to have had his eye on this passage, when he explains cailles coiffées, women. Here's a little authority for my suspicion of Shakespeare's meaning; and I'll throw in a testimony or two from a contemporary poet with him, by whom quail is metaphorically used for a girl of the game. Ford, in his Love's Sacrifice, brings in a debauchee thus muttering against a fuperannuated mistress.“ By this light I have toiled more with this carrion hen, than with ten quails scarce grown into their: firit feathers.”

So we find Mrs Ursula, in Ben Johnson's Bartholomew Fair, complaining that she had no young women for the entertainment of her customers. “ Here will be Zekiel Hdgworth, and three or four gallants with him at night, and I ha' nei. ther plover nor qua:l for them; persuade this, between you two, to become a bird o' the game, while I work the velvet woman within, as you call her.”

(45) and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there his brother, the rull, the primitive statue and oblique meinurial of cuckolds ;} I understand this paffage thus. First, he alludes to Jupiter having transformed himself into a bull to gain the love of.. Europa; and then he calls Menelaus a bull, as being a cucko

lauging at his brother's leg. To what form but
that he is, thould wit larded with malice, and ma...
lice forced with wit, turn him to? to an als were
nothing, he is both ass and ox; to an ex were no-.
thing, he is both ox and ass; to be a dog, a mule,
a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a put-
tock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care:
but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against Dea.
ftiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not
Thersites; for ( care not to be the louse of a lazar,,
fo I were not Menelaus
Hey-day, spirits and fires !

ULYSSES, NES.T.OR, and DIOMEDE, with Lights,
Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Hjax. Nos. yonder 'lis; there, where we see the. light.


old; and then characterizes the bull, as the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds; i. e, a cuckold is said to brave horns, a bull has horns; so stands for a cuckold obo. liquely ; that is, typically, emblematically

, as our Poet in Ham. lel lays, the play is called the Moreirap; - Marry, how ? tropically. Mr Warburton differs from me in the construction of this place; he thinks Menelaus. is called the bull, and that he is likewise called the primitive statue, &c. Then he objects that primitive and oblique are contradictory epithicts, and cannot be applicd to the fame thing; he therefore conjectures the Poet wrote;

--the primitive statue, and ohelisque memorial of cuckolds. ie" He is represented (says my friend) as one that would remain an eternal monument of cuckoldom never to be effaccd; and how could this be better represented than by calling him an obelifque memoria!? For of all human monumental edifices the obeliique is the most durable The Ægyptians, 'tis well known, used in to record their arts and histories. upon."--I could not in justice Nine so ingenious a conjecture, though I have not disturbed the text; and submit the pala fage, in present, to the determination of the public judge ment.

Hell. I trouble you.
Ajax. No, not a whit.

Ulys. Here comes himself to guide you.
Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Prin-

ces all, fga. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good

night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. Hett. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks'

general. Men. Good-night, my Lord. Heit, Good-night, sweet Lord Menelaus.

Ther. Sweet draught-sweet, quoth a----sweet fink, sweet fewer.

Achil. Good-night and welcome both at once, That go or tarry.

Aga. Good-night.

Åchil. Old Nestor tarries, and you too, Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Dia. I cannot, Lord, I have important business, The tide whereof is now; good-night, great Hector.

Hell. Give me your hand. Ulyf. Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company.

[To Troilus. Troi. Sweet Sir, you honour me. Heit. And so good night. Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. [Exeunt.

Ther. That fame Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave: I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses: he will spend his mouth and promise, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretel it, that it is prodigious, there will come fome change: the fun borrows of the moon when Dia.

[to those

-mede keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than not to dog him : they say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after-Nothing but letchery; all incontinent varlets.


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SCENE changes to Calchas's. Tent.

Dio. What, are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal. Who calls ?
Dio. Diomede; Calchas, I think; where's your

Cal. She comes to you.
Enter TROILUS and Ulysses, after them' THERSITES.
Ulyf. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Troi. Creflid come forth to him?
Dio. How now, my charge?
Cre. Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word

Troi. Yea, fo familiar ?
Ulyy. She will fing to any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man may sing to her, if he can
take her cliff. She's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?
Cre. Remember? yes.

Dio. Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Troi. What should she remember?
Ulys. List ---

Cre. Sweet honey Greek, tenpt me no more co folly.

Ther. Roguery

with you.

Dia. Nay, then, ---
Cre. I'll tell you what.
Dio. Pho! pho! come, tell a pin,you are a forsworn--
Cre. In faith, I can't : what would you have me

do ?
Ther. A jugling trick, to be secretly open.
Dio. What did you fwear you would bestow ca


Gre.’ythee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do any thing but that, Iweet Greek.

Dio. Good-night.
Troi. Hold, patience
Ulyf. How now, Trojan?
Cre. Diomede.
Dio. No, no, good-night: I'll be your foolno more.
Troi. Thy better mult.
Cre. Hark, one word in your ear.
Troi. O plague and madness !

Ulyf. You are inoved, Prince; let us depart, I pray
Lest your displeasure thould enlarge itself [you,
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you, go.

Troi. Behold, I pray you--

Ulyf. Good my Lord, go off :
You fly to great distraction : come, my Lord.

Troi. I pr’ythee stay.
Ulyf. You have not patience: come.

Trii. I pray you, stay; by hell, and by hell's torI will not speak a word.

[ments, Dio. And so, good-night. Cre. Nay, but you part in anger? Troi. Doth that grieve thee withered truth! Ulys. Why, how now, Lord ? Troi. By Jove, I will be patient. Cre. Guardian-why, Greek--Dio. Pho, pho, adieu ! you palter.


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