One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and molded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,

More laud than gilt o'erdusted.

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and cómplete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
And still it might; and yet it may again,

If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive,

And case thy reputation in thy tent;

Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.

Achilles

I have strong reasons.

Ulysses

Of this my privacy

But 'gainst your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical:
"Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.

Achilles

Ha! known!

Ulysses

Is that a wonder?

The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.

There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state;

Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to:

All the commérce that you have had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, -
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;

But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.

Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;

The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit.

VOL. II. — 14

Patroclus

To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown

Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemned for this;
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dewdrop from the lion's mane,

Be shook to air.

Achilles

Patroclus

Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honor by him.

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves:
Omission to do what is necessary

Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Achilles-

Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus:
I'll send the food to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,

To see us here unarmed: I have a woman's longing,

An appetite that I am sick withal,

To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;

To talk with him, and to behold his visage,

Even to my full view. A labor saved!

Thersites Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.
Achilles-How so?

Thersites

He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgeling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achilles-How can that be?

Thersites - Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock; a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say - there were wit in this head, an 'twould

out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone forever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break it himself in vain glory. He knows not me: I said, Good morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He has grown a very land fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achilles Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. Thersites - Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

arms.

Achilles-To him, Patroclus: tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times honored captain general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.

Patroclus-Jove bless great Ajax!

Thersites Humph!

Patroclus-I come from the worthy Achilles,
Thersites-Ha!

Patroclus Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,

Patroclus-And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.

Thersites - If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. Patroclus- Your answer, sir.

Thersites - Fare you well, with all my heart.

Achilles-Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Thersites - No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: but, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.

Achilles-Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Thersites Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature.

Achilles- My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; and I my. self see not the bottom of it. [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

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

[Exit. Scene: Troy. A Street. Enter, at one side, ENEAS and Servant, with a Torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, with Torches.

Paris

See, ho! who's that there?

Deiphobus

Eneas

'Tis the lord Æneas.

Is the prince there in person?

Had I so good occasion to lie long,

As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business
Should rob my bed mate of my company.

Diomedes

That's my mind too. Good morrow, lord Æneas.

Paris

A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand:
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Eneas

Health to you, valiant sir,

During all question of the gentle truce:

But when I meet you armed, as black defiance,

As heart can think, or courage execute.

The one and other Diomed embraces.

Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health:

But when contention and occasion meet,

By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
Eneas-

And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly

With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed! by Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Diomedes-

We sympathize: -Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun!
But, in mine emulous honor, let him die,
With every joint a wound: and that to-morrow!
Eneas

We know each other well.

Diomedes

We do; and long to know each other worse.
Paris-

This is the most despiteful gentle greeting,
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. -
What business, lord, so early?

Eneas

I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.
Paris-

His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek
To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company: or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach.
With the whole quality wherefore I fear
We shall be much unwelcome.

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne from Troy.

Paris

That I assure you;

There is no help;

[Exit.

The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.

Eneas-Good morrow, all.

TWO ROYAL MISTRESSES.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN HELEN AND MADAME DE MAINTENON.

BY ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.

[ANNA LETITIA AIKIN: An English miscellaneous writer; born in 1743; married Rochemont Barbauld, a Huguenot refugee, in 1774. A volume of "Miscellaneous Pieces," written with her brother, but the best of them hers, — gave her reputation. She wrote "Hymns in Prose for Children, "Devotional Pieces," " Early Lessons," etc. She died in 1825.]

Helen-Whence comes it, my dear Madame Maintenon, that beauty, which in the age I lived in produced such extraordinary effects, has now lost almost all its power?

Maintenon-I should wish first to be convinced of the fact, before I offer to give you a reason for it.

Helen - That will be very easy; for there is no occasion to